Marching On
by Honor Reid
Summary: Abandoned at a roadside motel by his mother, twelve-year-old Timothy McGee goes in search of the man who could be his father, one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Many many thanks to my beta reader _naemi_ who went so above and beyond. They have the patience of a saint and are truly awesome. The art is by the very talented _amoredition_ I am in awe, no seriously this is the most perfect art I have ever seen _._ I am so very thankful! The link can be found on my profile page. Also thank you _solariana_ for organizing this challenge! Title is from the song _Marchin' On_ by One Republic. Written for _ncis_bang_. Also for _hc_bingo,_ square: humiliation

 **Warnings:** Drug use, Prostitution, panic attacks, and one scene of violence against a child. AU Ziva and Jackson are still alive.

* * *

 **For those days we felt like a mistake,  
Those times when love's what you hate  
Somehow  
We keep marchin on  
-One Republic**

 **~NCIS~**

 ** _Friday_**

Pausing as a shiver went up his spine, Tim dug his hand that was bright red from two days of exposure to the cold into the pocket of his jeans and shakily withdrew an envelope. It was a bit crumbled from the many times he had folded and unfolded it and a little soggy from the nearly constant snowfall. Squinting down at the lettering, he compared the address on the paper to the one on the mailbox and silently thanked God that he finally found the place. He was so cold that his hands and face were numb but ached at the same time. Gripping the paper tightly, Tim couldn't help but wonder what he was doing here. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the answer: he had nowhere else to go. Tim also knew he wouldn't last in this weather for much longer. He had been lucky last night and had slept in a dairy barn snuggled up with some of the milk cows; although they had reeked up to high heaven, they had been warm, and that warmth had kept him alive when temps had dropped.

In fact, he was willing to bet temperatures had once again dropped below freezing; snow was still falling upon the already deep banks on either side of the street. Tim was bitterly cold and wet. The sweatshirt he was wearing was cheaply made not designed for this type of weather, and was thoroughly soaked through. Tim was tired, exhausted and he knew that was bad; he needed to get indoors. He had been walking all morning just to get to the tiny, tiny, town of Stillwater.

Only yesterday, he had managed to hitch a ride with a trucker and his wife who had been staying at the same cheap hotel. He had lied to them and said his dad lived nearby. It was almost a miracle they were able to take him from just north of Scranton to the town of Benton where they continued north and he went south to Stillwater. He had walked the rest of the way. Halfway to Stillwater, he realized he needed somewhere to stay and thankfully had found the dairy barn.

The house Tim had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to get to looked nice enough. Standing there in the snow, Tim felt an overwhelming urge to run away. As he felt tears well up in his eyes, he thought about what lead him to the point of having to depend on the mercy of strangers.

 _Liam._ That's whose fault it was.

Until two days ago, his mom's boyfriend Liam had never laid a hand on him. Not that Tim hadn't thought Liam was capable of it; he had always known he was. He had reminded Tim too much of Adam, Miguel, and Don, and a few others who had made an appearance in his mother's life over the years. Some were okay, others were like Liam. His mom Cathy had been with him for a little over two years, which was kind of a record for her. She had picked him up in Tucson at a bar she had been hustling at.

The first time Tim had laid eyes on Liam, he had been in the process of shooting up heroin. He had tried to tell his mom that he thought Liam was bad news, but she just said he didn't understand adult relationships. It didn't hurt that Liam was a sweet talker and could get his mom to agree to almost anything. He had never wasted his time trying to charm Tim; whether it was because Tim didn't really matter or because he knew it would do no good, Tim was never sure.

Tim had always been able to see right through him. Everything he did bore a hint of latent cruelty. He had never understood how his mother hadn't seen it, but then again she was too busy trying to please Liam, that and being high. Basically, Liam and Tim mutually disliked each other, so they just avoided one another as much as possible. This was hard to do considering the three of them were kind of together almost twenty-four hours a day.

They had had a few verbal skirmishes, but his mom had always played peacekeeper, and they had never gotten physical. That is until two days ago …

 **~NCIS~**

 ** _Wednesday_**

Tim was starting to ache from sitting on the floor for so long, but he knew better than to draw attention to himself during these parties. So when this one had started, he had found a corner to sit and tried to read his book. The party had been ongoing for three days straight, with other hotel guests joining in. Tim tried to keep an eye on his mom; sometimes she got caught up in situations that she couldn't get out of. He may only be twelve years old, but it was his job to protect her. They only had each other to rely on. Let's face it: Liam certainly wasn't going to do it.

Tim must have eventually dozed off because the next thing he knew was he was roughly pushed aside. Groggily looking up, Tim was greeted by the unpleasant sight of Liam going through his backpack.

"Give it back," Tim demanded, picking himself off the floor. No one was allowed to touch his backpack; it was all he had in this life that was truly his.

"We need more money. What have you got in here?" Liam slurred, finally getting frustrated and turning the backpack upside down and dumping its contents onto the floor.

Tim's meager belongings hit the filthy green shag carpet and his anger pushed past his fear.

Grabbing the now empty bag out of Liam's hands, Tim knelt on the floor and started to shove his books and the few things he managed to squirrel away, back into the bag. That's when Liam kicked him hard in the ribs, knocking him to the carpet once more.

Staring up at him defiantly from where he had fallen, Tim wheezed out, "Don't touch me!"

When Liam's face contorted with rage, Tim knew he had blown it. Scrambling backwards in a desperate attempt to get out of reach, Tim raised an arm to ward off another blow but Liam reached down and grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him up until they were face to face.

"What did you say to me, boy?" Liam slurred out in a menacing tone. He drew up his six-foot frame, and with his free hand he pushed his stringy blond hair out of his eyes.

Tim knew better than to answer truthfully, but for once he didn't want to do the smart thing; he was so sick and tired of it all. "I said don't touch me!" he shouted into Liam's face.

Tim never saw the blow coming. He felt a sharp pain, and next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor with his face pressed into the carpet. Liam was leaning over him with a knee planted in the center of his back and one hand on his neck in a bruising grip. Tim's face throbbed painfully. Tears were welling up in eyes, but Tim refused to let them fall. He would not give this asshole the satisfaction.

"Please Liam, he didn't mean it. I will get you more money, you know I will," Tim heard his mother plead. His mother was only five foot four, but she somehow she pulled Liam off him.

Tim managed to roll over, despite the pain, onto his back and watched as his mom begged and pleaded with Liam not to hurt him anymore. If he could, he'd tell her not to bother with the jerk, but his face and side were on fire, making it difficult to think straight. All he could do was lie there, trying to draw air back into his lungs, and listen. He felt so useless.

"I'm sick and tired of his attitude. I see how he looks at me. Always thinking he's better when he is nothing but a burden. If you want to keep him around, he needs to earn his keep." Liam growled. He snatched Cathy's arm and shook her roughly.

Cathy's eyes grew wide a panicked look on her face.

"Please, Liam, you promised you would leave him alone, if I earned you enough money," Cathy pleaded in a trembling voice.

Tim froze as Liam's gaze fell on him, and his stomach rolled in terror as Liam slowly looked him over.

"Well I changed my mind. He's old enough now to make a little bit of money. Yeah … next time we go out, he comes with us," Liam said slowly, eyes narrowed. "I know exactly where to take him. There's a house on 2nd street where we could set up. The owner would only take a small percentage for use of one of his rooms."

"No, please Liam, You don't need him. I'll make you more money. You'll see," Cathy begged, as she wrapped her arms around him. She pulled him down into a deep desperate kiss.

Tim looked away. He noticed for the first time that the other partiers had left; closing the door behind them, and it was just the three of them left in the room.

Tim's leg was roughly nudged and Liam jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom and said, "Go!"

Scrambling to his feet, Tim scooped up his bag and the scattered contents then half-ran, half-walked to the bathroom. He glanced quickly at his mom, who avoided his gaze as she leaned against Liam. He swiftly shut the door. Taking a seat on the floor, Tim tried to ignore the noises coming from the other room. He wasn't naïve or stupid. Tim knew his mom was trying to "talk" Liam out of selling him like he sold her.

All the sudden it was too much, and tears ran down his face as he hugged his few possessions to his chest. His face and ribs ached and throbbed, but he never made a sound even as he sobbed through the pain. He knew better. An onslaught of despair, fear, and terror rolled through him, twisting his insides into knots. He knew he was at the precipice of another panic attack. Digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand to the point he broke the skin, Tim focused on that pain to drag himself back. He would get in trouble if he got caught having an attack. His mother simply didn't have the patience to deal with him when he was in the midst of one. She didn't understand why he couldn't just pull himself together, and Liam thought he was just wanting attention or being purposely defiant.

After gingerly splashing his face with water, Tim managed to calm down, and he started to put his bag back together. For once, he was kind of thankful he didn't have anything of real value or his mom and Liam would have pawned it. Knowing they would add stability, Tim put his books in first. He only had two right now, sometimes he had more, but he always tried to have at least one. With their nomadic lifestyle, he really couldn't have too many, even though he really wanted more. He loved to read, whether fiction or non-fiction. He loved learning new things. It had been over two years since he was in school, so his books were really the only way he learned anything right now.

Next came his story journal; his mom had given it to him one Christmas. He loved the leather binding and the gilt edges. Tim had wondered if she had stolen it. It was way nicer than anything they could usually afford. He carefully smoothed out the ruffled pages. As much as he loved reading, it was in his writing where he felt truly alive. He could go anywhere; he could be anyone in his writing. He wasn't twelve year old Timothy McGee, illegitimate son to a meth-addicted prostitute. He was a hero caught up in a galactic war, an explorer discovering untold treasures, or an Arthurian knight fighting besides Lancelot and Sir Galahad.

Since he was going to be trapped in here for awhile, Tim decided to change. He washed his dirty clothes in the sink and hung them to dry over the shower bar. Having only one set of spare clothes had taught him to treat them carefully. If he ruined them his mom would have to spend money to buy more from a thrift store. Tim knew how she got her money, and he knew how much she hated it. So anytime she had to spend money on him, he felt like he was the one forcing her to work the streets. He put on his other set of clothes, took out his journal, and wrote down a new story idea. Tim allowed himself to get lost in an imaginary world where he was a superhero who could right wrongs and keep his family safe.

His mom finally let him out after about a couple of hours. He tried to talk to her, but she shushed him and pointed to Liam, who was asleep on the bed closest to the outside door. Tim got into the other bed. His mom sat next to him and tucked him in, something she hadn't done in a long while. He looked at her quizzically, but she just shook her head; she looked resigned and a bit scared.

She cupped his cheek and whispered, "You know I love you, right?"

Getting an unsettled feeling in his stomach, Tim nodded. He couldn't remember the last time she had said that, so in return he breathed out a puzzled, "I love you too, Mom."

She then turned off the light, but instead of getting into bed with Liam, she sat at the end of Tim's bed. He fell asleep watching her smoke cigarette after cigarette in the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone who read my story, favorited, and left a review. Getting a review seriously makes my day. Thank you! Here's the new chapter. Enjoy!

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 **~NCIS~**

Cathy McGee watched as her little boy finally fell asleep. Closing her green eyes, she took a deep drag off her cigarette, and pushed a strand of her greasy blonde hair behind her ear as she tried to think. When she had found out she was pregnant thirteen years ago, she been so scared, but she never seriously considered getting rid of the baby. She had been excited at the prospect of being a mom. She had no family left: her mom died when she was two and her father kicked off when she was around twenty. This baby would be her family.

At the time, she lived in a crappy one bedroom apartment way outside of Boston. She was a bartender at a local bar downtown, and partied whenever she could. Eventually she had to work less and kept calling in sick because she was so tired all the time. She was fired from her job when she started to show. Apparently, pregnancy was not exactly sexy, at least according to her boss.

Although in her opinion, she totally rocked it.

The day her Timothy Samuel McGee was born was one of the best days of her life. It was difficult to have a baby and work full time as a waitress but she did it until he was three, and then it all became too much. She missed hanging out with people her own age, partying, just . . . just . . . having some fun.

So she started going out once a week and paid a neighbor kid to babysit. Soon she partied almost every night, but since she couldn't afford a sitter that often, she started hosting the parties herself. The parties were filled with alcohol, men, and pot. It never seemed to be enough, never seemed to fill up the part of her that was always too empty. Next came cocaine, but that was too expensive for her to do long term, so she ended up smoking meth.

She lost her waitressing job after missing too many shifts, which meant they lost their apartment. They ended up in a cheap roadside motel. Then she was caught in a drug raid. Cathy lost custody of Tim for three agonizing months before she cleaned up her act and they were reunited. Eventually, she met a man named Rob and followed him to California with Tim in tow, because Rob had a construction job waiting for him.

She thought in a new place, they could start over. That became the pattern for the next few years. With each new boyfriend, with each new city, it was going to be different. Cathy was always so sure that, this time, in this city, with this guy, she was finally going to get her Happily Ever After, but it never happened, and eventually she started using again. Somewhere along the way she started making money by selling herself to pay for her habit, for the food, for the rent.

Cathy was brought back to the present when Tim rolled over in his sleep and curled up on his side. The sight brought a smile to her face; he was growing up so fast. Maybe too fast, she thought, the smile sliding off her face. She had been more than a little bit shocked when he had stood up to Liam. It was a stupid thing for Tim to do. He fucking knew better. If he would just behave, Liam wouldn't have to discipline him. She knew there was no love lost between them, but they had all managed to get along, for the most part, for over two years. Although she had to play referee for the two of them more than once, and now that she thought about it more frequently here lately.

She hadn't been surprised when Liam had back-handed Tim for talking back the way he did. That wasn't the part that bothered her because her own dad used to smack her around when she mouthed off, and she was none the worse for it. No, the part that bothered her was what Liam had said afterward, and it wasn't the first time he had done so. She had always managed to change the subject or talk him out of it.

Tonight was different. When Liam had looked at Tim like he was something to be bought and sold, it had terrified her. It had also instantly cleared the drug-induced fog she had been in for the last couple of days. She never wanted Tim to know what it felt like to be sold, to have to service some john in a dirty alleyway.

Tim was just a kid.

He was _her_ kid and even through it might not look like it to outsiders, she loved him. He was such a good boy, and he rarely complained although he had every right to. He was special, so smart, and maybe too smart for his own good. Despite all he had witnessed at his young age, he was still such a gentle soul; she could still see it every once in a while behind the blank expression Tim wore nowadays.

He deserved better.

Cathy straightened up in resolve. She had dragged him along in this life that she had created for them for twelve years. It was time she put him first.

Rising from the bed, Cathy grabbed Tim's backpack and walked to the bathroom. She made sure the door was firmly shut before she turned on the light. She took out Tim's journal and skipped past the written pages until she reached the blank ones. Tearing out two pages, she grabbed the pen Tim always kept with him and started writing. She would charm a couple envelopes off the desk clerk; he had been eyeing her since they checked in, so it wouldn't be at all difficult. Ignoring the tears running down her cheeks, she quickly finished her note to Tim. It was the other letter she was having the real problem with.

What do you say to a guy that you saw all of maybe three times and slept with twice?

She wasn't even really sure he was Tim's father, but she had narrowed it down to two guys, one Leroy Jethro Gibbs and some guy named Jim who was an accountant from Seattle.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Cathy whispered to herself with a bit of a smile on her lips.

That's how he had introduced himself, when he had stopped at the bar where she worked. He had been in a few times before, and they had flirted. Flirting was practically in the job description at that particular bar. She still got a little tingly thinking about his piercing blue eyes.

When he had mentioned his last name, she had asked if he knew a Jackson Gibbs from Stillwater. He had managed to look surprised, suspicious, irritated, and interested all at the same time. It turned out that that her father, Samuel, and Jackson had both worked at the mines. Cathy had been to Jackson Gibbs's house a few times with her dad. She had never met his son. Jethro had been long gone to the Marine Corps by then. Her and Jethro had talked on and off throughout her shift about growing up in the heart of mining country and the various people they had in common. When she got off work, he had invited her back to his hotel room to continue their conversation, and she went.

She knew they weren't starting a grand romance or anything. They were just having fun. He was handsome, charming, and always so nice. He left the next day to go back to D.C. From what she remembered, he was some sort of cop. She saw him only one more time about two months later, and after her shift, she went back to his hotel again. She didn't see him again and a month later realized she was pregnant. The funny thing was that she could barely remember the other guy, Jim, but there was just something about Leroy Jethro Gibbs that made him stand out.

Staring at the paper, Cathy finally decided to be brutally honest. One of the things that had struck her about Gibbs was that he didn't tolerate fools or liars. Once she was finished, she rearranged Tim's backpack exactly like he left it.

Now came the hard part: getting Liam to agree to the plan. She knew he didn't think she was all that bright, but heck, before she dropped out of school, she had been on a full ride to Boston University majoring in Biomedical Engineering with a minor in Computer Science. She was plenty book smart, plus she could be cunning when she needed to be. She would appeal to his greed and remind him of Eddie Smith in Ohio who owed him money. Without Tim, they would also need less and make better time. Yeah, she was pretty sure it would work. This way, she could keep Liam and Tim would be safe.

She loved Liam so much; she honestly didn't think she could live without him. He took such good care of her. Things where rough between them right now, but she blamed that on Tim. If he would just get along with Liam better, there wouldn't be a problem. Once Tim was gone, things between her and Liam would go back to the way they used to be. She just knew it. Tim would be fine without her. He was such a resilient kid. Wiping her tears, she just kept reminding herself that this was for the best. She folded the letters, and making sure to avoid her gaze in the mirror, Cathy walked out of the bathroom.

 **~NCIS~**

 ** _Thursday_**

It was the silence that eventually woke him up.

When Tim opened his eyes the room was starting to brighten with the pre-dawn light, and it was then that he realized how absolutely quiet it was. There were no whispered arguments, which inevitably would get louder and louder depending on how drunk or strung out his mom and Liam were. There was no clinking of beer bottles or laughter that was too loud and went on for too long. The three day bender that his mom and Liam had been on had apparently finally wound down. Turning his head slightly, he saw that the other bed was empty. It was a relief not to have to deal with the two of them as they were coming down from their high. Although he must have slept harder than he thought not to have heard the two of them leave.

As he lay there he noticed for the first time that there was a crack in the ceiling. While he waited for them to return, Tim eyed the damaged line that went from one side the room to the other. He didn't want to think about how Liam and his mom were probably out trying to get money to score their next fix. He really didn't want to think about how they made their money. If Liam had his way Tim, would soon be joining them. So he carefully tried to keep his mind blank as to what that would entail, and he followed the line with his eyes, taking in every dip and curve until he fell back to sleep.

The next time Tim woke up, the room was much lighter, even with the curtains closed. This time, he pushed the covers back and sat up, and a pained moan escaped his lips. The blows that had been inflicted on him yesterday were definitely making themselves known this morning. Looking around, he noticed he was still alone, which wasn't all that unusual. He tried to rub the sleep out of his uninjured eye as he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing his backpack along the way.

After he flicked on the overhead light, Tim gingerly splashed some water on his face. Then he took out his toothbrush and grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was taller than most kids his age, but he was also a lot thinner, and it made him look like a scarecrow.

Rubbing a hand over his buzz-cut hair, Tim scowled at his reflection. He hated having his hair this short because it made his already big ears stick out even more, but his mom insisted. She claimed it was easier to take care of and less likely to attract lice. Tim didn't like to admit it, but she had a point. They did tend to stay in some really filthy places that were just crawling with pests of all sorts.

But it was the split lip and black eye that really stood out on his face especially, under the sickly florescent light. He gingerly touched the wound on his lip with his tongue; he definitely was not looking forward brushing his teeth. Feeling along his ribs, Tim swore when he pressed too hard. It hurt to breathe, but he didn't think they were broken.

Stupid Liam. It was his fault that he looked like this. Tim wetted his toothbrush and he very carefully brushed his teeth. Once he was done, he walked out of the bathroom and over to the curtains to open them up and let some light in. Looking out at the parking lot, Tim saw the ground had a fresh dusting of snow.

Turning around, Tim winced when he saw the full extent of the damage done to the room. The mirror on the far wall was broken; the bedside table was upended and lying in the middle of the floor. There were vodka and beer bottles strewn about. Cigarette butts where overflowing the ashtray and littering the floor. In addition, something about this room was out of place, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Glancing at the clock, Tim saw that it was almost 10:30 am. Check out time was at 11:00, and he knew they had only paid through today. He was starting to get nervous, but hopefully Liam and his mom would be back soon. They needed to leave before the owners of the motel saw this room. They couldn't afford to pay for the damages.

Tim gasped when it finally hit him what was missing, his mom's duffle bag. His stomach churned violently as the meaning of this seared his mind. In denial, he desperately turned in a circle and looked again, thinking maybe he just missed it the first time. Putting a hand over his mouth, Tim tried to quell the panic that was rising up inside him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white against the blue bedspread. Looking closer, he realized it was two envelopes. A wave of fear washed over him as he slowly walked over to the bed. He picked up the first envelope. On the front were three words.

Tim read them out loud. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs." He had never heard of the man before.

Picking up the other envelope, Tim saw his name written neatly on the front. He had a sinking feeling he wasn't going to like what was inside. Taking in a shuddering breath, he ripped it open with shaking fingers. Tim recognized the handwriting as his moms, and that the paper was from his journal.

 _"_ _Tim,_

 _I love you so much, and as hard as this is, it is for the best._ _I am sending you to a man who I think is your father._ _His name is Leroy Jethro Gibbs._ _The only address I have for him is in the town of Stillwater._ _There is a map up in the manager's office where we checked in; you should be able to find it on there._ _I left you some money to get you there._ _You are such a good boy and so smart, so I know you will be okay._ _I hope you're not angry with me._ _I am doing this for your own good._ _I will try to write to you when I can._

 _Love, Mom"_

Tim reread it twice before it really sunk in. His mom was gone. He could care less if Liam up and left, but it had always been Mom and him, always. If one of Mom's boyfriends got out of hand, they would leave him, the two of them. They were a team, and they were family. Tim slowly sat on the rumpled bed, and one thought kept running through his head.

"My mom left me," he whispered to himself.

He kept hearing those four words over and over. His breath hitched, tears rolled down his cheek, and then he crumbled up his mom's letter. Standing up, Tim threw it across the room. The action didn't stop the anger and fear that was coursing threw him. Sobbing, he picked up the clock by the bedside and threw it so hard that it left a hole in the wall. That did calm him down some, and he realized he needed to get out of here.

Tim picked up his backpack and put the "Gibbs" envelope inside it. Then he looked at how much money his mom left him. There were two crumbled up fives, a whole ten dollars. _What_ _am I_ _supposed to do with ten dollars?_ Wiping the tears off his cheeks with his sleeve, Tim quickly put his red sweatshirt on. Zipping it up, Tim pulled the hood on over his head. He then reluctantly walked over to where he had thrown the letter, picked it up, and put it in his pocket. He needed the address on the bottom.

He didn't want to go to some stranger's house, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. Other than his mom, he had no family, and they really didn't make friends in their travels. What choice did he have? So he was going to go to Stillwater, and he prayed that this Jethro character still lived there because otherwise, he really would be screwed. Hopefully, he would be allowed to stay there until he could find his mom and convince her to take him with her.

He opened the motel room door and was hit by a blast of cold air. Shutting the door, Tim made his way to the manager's office. He was very thankful to see his mom was right and that there was a map on wall. He went directly over to it and found the you-are-here-star that showed he was in the small town of Blakely, Pennsylvania. Tim quickly found Stillwater, which apparently was an even smaller town. He doubted any buses ran there. Doing some rough math, he saw that it was over sixty miles from Blakely to Stillwater. Tim let out a frustrated breath. He knew there was no way to walk that far, and ten dollars certainly wasn't going to get him there. The fear he had managed to squash a few minutes ago was making its way up his spine, making his stomach churn, and his throat close up. What was he going to do?

 **~NCIS~**

Linda Martinez was tired. At fifty-five getting only five hours of sleep made her cranky, but it had been nice to sleep in a real bed rather than in the big-rig her and her husband owned. She walked into the manager's office while she finished up braiding her hair, tying the rubber band at the end, and flicking the braid behind her when she was done. She needed to tell the manager that the water wasn't working in their room, and that they were checking out. She saw only one person in the office, and it wasn't the manager. It was the young boy that was staying a few doors down from them.

She had noticed him when Ernesto and her had checked in yesterday. The kid had been coming back from the vending machine and answered her hello with a polite one of his own. When she had walked past their door to go to the vending machine herself, she had noticed the loud music and laughter coming from inside.

His split lip and bruises were new, though, and she also couldn't help but notice his parents' car was no longer in the parking lot. His tall and a bit too thin frame was a hunched over as he stared at the map. He must only be fifteen at most, and she had a sinking feeling he was on his own now. She told herself to mind her own business and knocked impatiently on the manager's desk. Then she shouted hello hoping to rouse someone from the back. That's when she noticed the boy frowned as he used his finger to trace a route on the map tacked to the wall.

Linda could tell something was wrong. "Do you need some help, son?" she asked.

He jerked as though startled and mumbled a _no thanks_ in her direction before leaving the office so quickly as if it were on fire. She walked to the map and tried to remember where his finger had been. It looked like maybe at the town of Benton. Linda turned back around at the sound of the manager finally making an appearance and ignoring his attempt to flirt with her turned in her key.

Outside, she saw that Ernesto had the truck warmed up, but looking around, she could see the boy was walking out of the parking lot heading towards the road. She knew she should just hop into the cab of the truck so they could get going. Besides, it was none of her concern, but then again, she had never been good at minding her own business. So instead, she jogged over to the kid just as he was stepping out onto the sidewalk.

"Excuse me; can I talk to you for a moment?" She asked a little out of breath.

The young man eyed her wearily, but thankfully, he didn't take off.

Now that she had him stopped, Linda was unsure of what to say next. She blurted out, "Look, I saw the route you were checking out, and I was wondering if you needed a ride?" At his suspicious look, she added quickly, "Our next delivery is in Benton before we're headed up North to Route 118. We could drop you off if you want. That's where you were going right? Were you meeting someone there?"

He stared at her in disbelief. Meeting her eyes, he seemed to be judging the sincerity of her words. He glanced back towards the highway as he shifted from one foot to another before he nodded.

"Yeah, a ride would be great. Umm . . . I am going to Benton because that's where my dad lives," he said, his voice wavering just a little bit.

Linda jogged ahead to explain the situation to her husband who, in typical Ernesto fashion, just raised an eyebrow. He introduced himself to the young man who shook his hand and said his name was Tim.

Thanks to traffic and a major pile up on the interstate, it took most of the day to Benton. Their delivery was to the local grocery store on the south side of the small town. When they had stopped at the corner store, Tim had hopped down and immediately set about convincing Linda that he knew how to get home from here. She tried subtle inquiries about his father and where he lived, but Tim was evasive. Eventually, Linda gave up but handed Tim her email address, and she told him to write to her once in awhile to let her know how it was going. As he walked away, Linda could only hope she had done the right thing.

 **~NCIS~**

 ** _Friday_**

As he stood in front of his destination, Tim could see that a light was on in the front room. He needed to go knock on the door, but what was he supposed to say to the guy?

"Hi, you don't know me but I might be your son, or not. Either way I have nowhere to go so can I stay here?" Tim mumbled sarcastically under his breath. "Yeah right, I am sure that will go over well."

Tim felt frozen, literally and figuratively. He knew his life was going to change forever once he knocked on that door. No, that was wrong, it had changed the moment his mom decided that a life with strangers was better for Tim then a life with her. Tim hastily wiped his eyes. There was no way he was going to start crying again. Taking in a deep breath, he started up the walkway.

 **~NCIS~**


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Here's the next chapter. Loving all of the review's. Thank you! More to come soon!

 **~NCIS~**

Jackson Gibbs looked at the clock and saw it was already 9:30. Usually, he would be at the store by now, but the officials had issued a blizzard warning for the county, and by order of the Sheriff, the few stores in town were closed so no one would be trapped. Looking out the window, Jackson noticed the clouds looked thicker, and the snow was falling even heavier. He thought the newsmen were wrong about it hitting this morning; he'd bet the worst of it would hit this evening.

He was pretty well set as far as supplies were concerned. The food was stocked; the wood was stacked and ready for when the power went out. Jackson wasn't worried as he was an old hand when it came to Pennsylvanian winters.

A knock on the door startled Jackson as he was pouring another cup of coffee. He wondered if it was one of the neighbors wanting to borrow something or maybe just to talk before they were cut off from each other. What he found when he opened the door was not a neighbor but a boy maybe thirteen or fourteen. Immediately, Jackson took notice of his wet jeans, his thin red sweatshirt, and most concerning, his black eye and split lip.

"Yes? Can I help you son?" Jackson asked, equal parts curious and troubled.

"Are you Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" The young man inquired with a confused lilt to his voice.

Jackson laughed and then said, "No, definitely not. He's my son."

The boy seemed at a loss as he opened and closed his mouth several times before stuttering out, "Oh, umm . . . My mom sent me with a message for him."

Jackson noticed the young man was shivering. "I'm sorry, son, to keep you waiting out in this cold. Come in."

"Thanks," the boy answered with a quiver to his voice. He walked into the living room and made a beeline for the roaring fire in the fireplace. Holding out his hands, the kid warmed them over the flames.

Jackson admitted to himself that his curiosity was piqued by this unexpected turn of events. "I'm Jackson Gibbs, by the way," he said while holding out his hand.

"Timothy McGee. Call me Tim," the kid responded shaking his hand. It concerned Jackson how ice cold Tim's skin was. He took the grate off the fire and added a few more logs to it in order to get more warmth into the room as quickly as possible.

Jackson sat on the couch. Tim stood as close to the fire as he could get without burning himself. When Tim opened his eyes he gave Jackson a sheepish half-smile and took off his backpack. He dug into the pockets until he pulled out a white envelope and then he walked over and handed it to him.

Jackson took the note that was addressed to his son and still sealed. He asked, "Do you know what it says?" He saw Tim blush and then shake his head; he could tell that whatever it was about, it was making him uncomfortable.

Tim reached into his sweatshirt pocket, took out another envelope, and said "This is the one my mom left me. I think they say the same thing, but I haven't read the other one."

Taking the wrinkled paper, Jackson read through the brief note. Surprise and shock spread through him when the import of the words sank in. His eyes flew back to Tim, who had turned back to the fire, and he realized he could be looking at his grandson. He felt something tighten in his chest at that thought. He didn't have a lot of family, only Jethro. His hand tightened on the note, and then he took in a deep breath.

"I need to call Jethro and tell him about this. What's your mom's name?" Jackson asked.

"Catherine McGee," Tim answered his voice shaking. Whether from the cold or from fear Jackson couldn't tell, but he was willing to bet it was a little of both.

"Wait, was Samuel McGee your grandfather?" he asked in surprise.

Tim nodded and then continued, "Yeah he was, but I never met him. He died before I was born. Did you know him?"

"We worked the mines together until I opened the general store. I even met your mother when he stopped by a few times she was just a little girl, no more than seven or eight," Jackson said, a bit in shock that his old friend was this boy's grandfather.

Looking over at Tim, Jackson noticed he was still trembling, and his clothes looked pretty much soaked through. First things first, he thought; the kid needed to get dry and probably eat something. Plus, Jackson had a phone call to make.

"Do you have a change of clothes in that bag?" Jackson stood and walked to the kitchen. Tim nodded. "The bathroom is down the hall. If you want to change into your dry clothes, you can even take shower and warm up."

"Thanks," Tim said. The way he slowly and gingerly bent down to pick up his backpack had Jackson worried there might be other injuries than just the black eye.

This was not how Jackson had seen his morning going, but he'd take it. Tim obviously needed help whether he was his grandson or not, but first he needed to call Jethro. Although he wasn't sure how he was going to break the news to him.

Taking out a pan from the cupboard, Jackson went about warming up some left over soup that he had made the other day. Walking up to the phone on the wall, he took in a deep breath and blew it out before picking up the receiver and punching in the familiar set of numbers.

 **~NCIS~**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was at his desk working on a cold case from about five years ago. Due to the slow week, his whole team was working on cold cases in fact. Tony and Ziva were quietly bickering back and forth. Gibbs didn't mind the banter as long as they got some work done. Apparently, they were talking about inviting Abby and Palmer to a movie night at Tony's place. Gibbs didn't have any plans for the weekend other than working on the boat in his basement; it was what he did most weekends. When his cell phone rang he wondered if the weekend might be cancelled after all.

"Gibbs."

"Hello son, I need to talk to you."

He was a surprised when he heard his dad's voice.

"Is everything ok?" he asked more than a little concerned that his dad was calling during the day.

"Well, I'm fine, but I think you need to come to Stillwater," Jackson answered and then hesitated before continuing, "There is a young man here by the name of Timothy McGee. He was sent by his mom Catherine with a note for you."

Gibbs sat back in confusion. The name Catherine McGee sounded familiar. "What does it say?" He asked while standing up and making his way to the elevator. Although Tony and Ziva were working, Gibbs had a feeling he would need the privacy.

"Well, I haven't read it but the one she left for Timothy basically told him she was sending him to a man who might be his father, and that it was for his own good." Jackson said the last part sarcastically.

Gibbs stopped the elevator between floors just as the dots connected themselves. He vaguely remembered Cathy from Boston, a tiny blond.

"Cathy McGee, I remember. I went out with her a few times about thirteen years ago," Gibbs said stunned.

"Tim looks to be the right age. I haven't really had much of a chance to talk to him. He was soaked through, so I had him shower and change to warm up."

"How did he get soaked? How did he get to your house? Was he dropped off?" He asked in rapid fire, his concern growing.

"Like I said, we haven't talked a lot, but I believe he walked a ways. It's been snowing here this morning. You should have seen his clothes; no jacket, just a sweatshirt. It's a miracle he didn't freeze out there, especially with the blizzard coming," Jackson said with a protective tone entering his voice.

Gibbs remembered the news saying a blizzard would hit Pennsylvania this afternoon; glancing at his watch, he knew he didn't have much time. "I will be there as soon as I can. Make sure he stays there," Gibbs stated.

"There's something else. He's hurt. He has a black eye and a split lip. He is also moving very slowly; he could have more bruises or his ribs could be injured."

Gibbs hit the button to resume the elevator's movement. He knew what he was going to do, and that sense of purpose helped calm him down some.

"Dad, I am going to grab Ducky and be there as soon as possible." After saying goodbye to his father Gibbs returned to his desk, shut down his computer, and grabbed his jacket.

Their curiosity getting the best of them, Tony and Ziva didn't even try to look busy anymore.

"Is there a case, Boss?" Tony asked.

"No," Gibbs said curtly, "you two keep working your cases until it's time to leave. We are off rotation this weekend, so I'll see you on Monday."

Then he quickly walked up the stairs to Vance's office. He would need to let the director know he had a family emergency and would be unavailable this weekend. Since Vance wasn't in he left a message with his secretary.

Once in the elevator, Gibbs pressed the button for the morgue. That's when it finally sank in that he could have a son. He tried to come to grips with the thought of having a kid again, of being a dad again.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Gibbs also took in a few deep breaths in an effort calm down. He was jumping the gun a bit; he didn't even know for sure if the kid was his.

 **~NCIS~**

Ducky Mallard was typing up a report when the autopsy doors opened up and Jethro walked in. Glancing up, Ducky had been going to ask if Jethro wanted to take an early lunch with him as he knew of a delightful café that managed to serve a perfect hot tea. But one look at his friend's face stopped him: Jethro seemed almost lost.

"Jethro, are you all right?" Ducky asked while rising and going to stand in front of him. When Jethro didn't immediately answer, Ducky reached out and placed a hand on Jethro's arm as if to steady him. He seemed to be in shock.

At his friend's touch Gibbs seemed to pull himself together enough to answer his question. "Yeah, I'm fine. I need you to come to Stillwater with me, and bring your medical bag. Do you have a spare set of clothes here? We will probably be spending the weekend." Gibbs said.

Now Ducky was really concerned. "Yes, I have a spare set here. And of course I will go with you. Is your father ill?" He asked while grabbing his coat and bag.

"No he's fine. I'll explain in the car. We need to hurry: there is a blizzard heading towards the area, and we need to beat it there." Gibbs helped Ducky put on his coat, and they swiftly left the morgue on the way to the car.

Once on the road, Gibbs told Ducky all he knew. Ducky listened with disbelief. Gibbs, seemed calmer, now that they were on the road, but his grip on the steering wheel was tight. Others may not be able to tell, but being an old friend, Ducky could see Jethro was disturbed by the news. He knew if this young man was Jethro's son, his friend's life would change dramatically.

 **~NCIS~**

Despite the weather, they made it in record time due to the light traffic and Gibbs driving. They arrived around four. Snow was thickly lining the street, and the wind seemed to have picked up as it pushed the storm closer. Jackson ushered them in with a finger to his lips, telling them to keep it down. Walking into the living room, Gibbs saw why, as the young man was asleep on the couch. Tim was clutching a backpack to his chest, with a blanket draped over him. Almost involuntary, Gibbs took in a deep breath as he saw Tim for the first time and thought about how this could be his son. Then turning around, he quietly left the room and joined Ducky and his dad in the kitchen.

"Tim's been asleep for a couple of hours," Jackson said. "I feed him some soup to help warm him up. He ate three bowls. He told me he hadn't eaten since lunchtime yesterday. I had to pry that information out him. He was mostly quiet while he ate and afterward seemed tired, so I suggested he could take a nap on the couch. He was so exhausted that he was out in five minutes."

Jackson pulled out Tim's letter and the one written expressly for Jethro.

Gibbs took them both. Looking them over, he saw his envelope had an address on the outside; apparently it was from the Twilight hotel in Blakely, Pa. He read Tim's letter first, and then reread. Anger swept over him as he realized that his son . . . No he didn't know that yet. _Tim_ must have been left in Blakely and made his way here by himself. He tried not to think of all the ways that could have gone horribly wrong.

Ducky, who had read the note, asked, "How far way is Blakely from here?"

"About 65 miles, give or take. And there are no direct bus routes," Jackson supplied.

Gibbs wondered how Tim had managed to get to Stillwater, but that would probably have to wait until he woke up. He opened up his envelope, to read what Cathy had to say.

 _"_ _Jethro,_

 _I am not sure whether you remember me, but we met about thirteen years ago in Boston._ _I was a waitress at a bar near Boston University._ _We were only together twice._ _I never told you about the baby because I thought I could handle it all on my own._ _I am going to be honest: I don't know if Tim is your son or not._ _There was one other guy who could be his father._ _I am sending Tim to you now because he and my boyfriend do not get along, and it has gotten worse in the past couple of months._ _It would be best for everyone involved if Tim lived with you for a while._ _Please tell Tim I love him very much and that this is for his own good._

 _Cathy McGee"_

Gibbs closed his eyes in disbelief. That this woman who called herself a mother had in a little over a hundred words basically given up her son to a complete stranger. How did she even know if his father still lived in Stillwater? What if Gibbs were a terrible person, or what if he refused to take responsibility for Tim? Not that he would, but had Cathy, who claimed to love her son, even thought of those possibilities? Opening his eyes, he saw Ducky and his Dad looking at him, waiting.

Gibbs handed the note over and let them read it for themselves. He saw their faces mirror his disbelief.

"That's all she says? I was hoping for more," Jackson admitted.

"It does seem brief for such a life-altering decision," Ducky said. "Maybe she sent Tim away, after the boyfriend struck the boy."

Gibbs nodded. "Tim is the only one who knows for sure, but I would guess that might be the case."

"So what happens now?" Jackson asked.

"Well," Gibbs said as he looked out the kitchen window at the gathering storm, "it looks like we're here until the blizzard blows through. Afterward, I'll get a DNA test to establish paternity. Then, if I am his father, I'll file for full custody."

"And if you're not?" Jackson asked.

"Don't worry Dad, we will cross that bridge when we get there."

Just then they heard a noise from the living room.

 **~NCIS~**

Tim wasn't sure how long he had slept for but the room was darker, and he heard voices in the kitchen. With widening eyes, Tim realized the man who could be his father must be here. He had spent the last day and a half on the road without really thinking about who the man was that he was trying to get to. For all he knew, he could be another Liam. Knowing his mom's taste in men, he really wasn't holding out much hope. Tim was deeply afraid he might have jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

Sitting up slowly, as the movement pulled on his injuries, Tim saw a glass of water on the coffee table. Smiling at Jackson's thoughtfulness, he thought at least the older man seemed nice. He knew at lunch, Jackson had been dying to ask questions but didn't push for which Tim was very grateful. With slow and labored movements, Tim stood as Jackson and two others entered the room.

"Did you sleep okay?" Jackson asked kindly.

Tim nodded as he tried to covertly look at the other men without staring.

"Tim this is Dr. Mallard, a family friend, and this is Jethro Gibbs, my son."

Tim briefly looked at the doctor but he was more interested in the other man. He was tall with grey hair, and when Tim finally got the courage to look him in the eye he saw they were blue and steadily looking back at him. In his hand, Tim saw the letters.

Jackson cleared his throat. Nudging the doctor he said, "Ducky you want to help me start supper?"

"Why, yes that sounds delightful. I know of a great recipe we can try." Ducky said.

When they were gone, Gibbs said, "Why don't we sit down?"

Tim sat back down on the couch and glancing at the letters in Gibb's hand, asked, "What does she say?"

"She said that she loves you and wants what's best for you, which is to live with me," Gibbs' voice was even.

"My Mom isn't sure if you're my dad is she?" Tim asked blushing.

Gibbs waited until Tim met his eyes before answering, "No she's not, but there are tests we can take in order to know one way or another. Whether I am your father or not I will make sure you are not alone in this."

Tim shrugged in response not believing him.

"Is she coming back?" Tim ground out in a low voice, his eyes a bit glassy with unshed tears.

"I don't know," Gibbs answered, sympathy in his eyes.

Holding up the envelope, Gibbs quietly asked "Blakely? Is that where you and your mom where staying?"

"Yeah, for the past week we were staying at a hotel there." Tim's voice was so low he was practically whispering.

When he couldn't bear the silence anymore, Tim reluctantly continued, "Yesterday morning I woke up and my mom and Liam were gone. I found those notes on the bed along with some money."

"How did you get here?"

"I didn't have enough money to get a cab, and no buses run here, so I was going to hitchhike. Thankfully a trucker and his wife offered me a ride to Benton and then I walked, but it got dark and really cold, so when I found a dairy barn, stayed there until morning." Tim picked at a hole in his jeans and shrugged his shoulders, "it was really warm in there, I was happy to find it."

Swallowing hard, Gibbs asked, "And how did you get the bruises?"

Tim's hand reached up and touched his face briefly before he answered, "My mom's boyfriend Liam and I do not get along. We argued, and this happened."

Gibbs just looked at him patiently waiting him out.

Tim made an abortive motion with his hands in exasperation, "My mom broke it up so it's not so bad," he huffed out.

"Is it just the black eye?"

Tim didn't answer right away; instead, he continued to worry the hole in his jeans, before he let out a deep sigh. "My ribs hurt a bit," he admitted halfhearted, "but they are only bruised not broken."

"For my own peace of mind, I would still like to have Dr. Mallard make sure," Gibbs said

Tim nodded slowly.

 **~NCIS~**

Soon Tim was sitting on a barstool in the kitchen as Doctor Mallard shone a light in his eyes for a concussion check. He shifted nervously from side to side, but was soon put at ease by Ducky's beside manner. He laughed along with the others at the story of the time Ducky and his fellow students pranked a substitute teacher by gluing everything down on his desk. Although he hissed out a breath when Ducky felt along his ribs, Tim didn't complain.

"Well, you're right young man, they are bruised but not broken," Ducky said cheerfully, "Just try to take it easy the next couple of days."

Tim nodded as he gingerly stood and went to go help Jackson set the table.

"Well?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky sighed and said in a low voice, "In my opinion, he needs to have a full workup done by a GP. It has probably been a while since he's seen one. Plus they can order blood work and make sure he has no nutritional deficiencies. He seems a bit underweight for his age."

"What about the bruises? How do you think they happened?" Gibbs asked. He knew as a Medical Examiner Ducky would have a good insight to how they occurred.

"Well, I would hypothesize that the size and shape of the bruising on his ribs is from being kicked multiple times. Obviously, the facial bruising is from a hand. Also, at some point in time, he was held by the back of his neck." Gibbs raised his eyebrows at the last point. Ducky explained, "There was faint bruising on the sides of his neck."

Gibbs ran a hand over his face and tried to reign in his anger at what Tim must have gone through. He knew he would have to be patient. Tim didn't know him, and it would take some time before he would trust him enough to let him know the whole story, but he could do his own research. He was going to find Liam and make sure he paid for laying his hands on his son. Gibbs was brought up short at that thought: He had only known Tim for a few hours and was already thinking of him as his son. In fact, the thought that he could be a father again, warmed him. At the same time it scared him, because he also knew what it was like to have that ripped away and be left with nothing.

As anxious as he was to return to D.C. and find out one way or another he was going to have to wait. Night had settled and the blizzard moved through the darkness. They weren't going anywhere tonight and probably not tomorrow.

 **~NCIS~**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you to everyone for reading and reviewing! Here's a new chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

 **~NCIS~**

Tim enjoyed dinner. It was a simple meal of homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. Considering Tim's meals usually consisted of fast food or gas station prepackaged food, it was especially delicious. The atmosphere was laid back as Jackson and Ducky took turns telling stories from their childhoods. It was odd that Tim felt more relaxed with three virtual strangers than with his mom and Liam. His instincts were telling him that these men would not hurt him.

They were just finishing up their meal when the power went out. Tim tensed up; he wasn't a big fan of the dark, although he would never admit it. Too many times being left alone in a house with no power had made Tim wary of total darkness.

"Don't worry," Jackson said. "I have been expecting this."

Tim heard him leave, and then saw him return with two lit lanterns. The soft yellow light was a welcome sight. Unclenching his hands that had balled into fists, he blew out a relieved breath. Looking up, he saw the man who may be his father looking back at him and give him a reassuring smile. Tim was embarrassed that he had been caught being scared and he quickly looked away. When the others pushed back their chairs Tim immediately got up and started gathering dishes. Maybe if he showed he could be helpful and not a burden he could stay. Tim didn't want to go to foster care again. Although he had been in foster care when he was three years old, he didn't remember it. Tim had heard horror stories about it from kids he had met in his travels.

Tim was shooed out of the kitchen by Jackson who had turned down his offer of washing the dishes. He joined Gibbs and Ducky in the living room, which was lit by the fire in the fireplace. Sitting on opposite couches, the men were talking quietly. Tim shifted back and forth from one foot to the other as anxiety and indecision twisted in his gut. Spying his backpack parked up against the wall next to the fireplace finally forced him fully into the room. He was worried that it was too close to the flames and he didn't want any of his belongs to get damaged. Walking across the room he scooped it up, and sat on the floor by the far end of the couch where Ducky sat. Gibbs and Ducky had paused their conversation as soon as they noticed him; Tim felt himself blush at their scrutiny. Digging through the bag, Tim quickly withdrew his current reading book and finding his place started to pretend to read by firelight.

"I see you are reading _The Once and Future King_. It is one of my favorite books," Ducky said. When Tim looked up curiously, he continued, "I have always enjoyed the exploits of King Arthur and his knights of the round table. And I believe that T.H. White in particular has a way of telling the ancient stories that really brings them to life."

Tim had been studiously staring at his book without managing to read a single line. The silence in the room had lengthened and grown awkward, but upon hearing Ducky's opinion he couldn't help agreeing in a quiet voice, "It's my favorite book, too. I've read it dozens of times." He gripped the book tightly in his hands while keeping his eyes on the elderly man to his right.

"What is your favorite story?" Ducky's voice took on an encouraging tone scooted forward a bit

Timothy shrugged his shoulders and remained silent, but apparently Ducky did not let that deter him, for he continued, "My favorite has always been King Pellinore, and his never-ending hunt for the Questing Beast."

Tim couldn't help the slight smile that slid across his face in surprise at hearing that and he shyly said, "Pellinore is a great character." He hesitated, tempted to go back to staring at his book, but seeing the look of interest in Ducky's eyes made him want to keep the conversation going. When was the last time anyone had been interested in anything he had to say? "My favorite part is when Wart . . . I mean Arthur is being turned into animals."

Ducky said enthusiastically, "Oh yes, those are very enjoyable tales. Do you have a particular favorite?"

"I like when he is turned into the badger and learns the story of how man was created," Tim admitted.

"Ah, yes, that is a very interesting one. Did you know that the story of Arthur turning into a goose was not in the original tale?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head and scooted a little closer, and he listened intently as Ducky launched into a story about why the story had been changed. The discussion soon turned to other books they had read. Both _Mysterious Island_ and _Ivanhoe_ were discussed before _Treasure Island_ was brought up. Tim heard Gibbs' clear his throat so both Ducky and Tim turned towards him.

"I read that book when I was a kid. I always was scared when Jim was hiding in the apple barrel. No matter how many times I read it I was still worried he would be discovered," Gibbs said.

Tim looked over at Gibbs in surprise, because until that statement, the man had been completely silent. Tim felt the need to offer up his own favorite scene. "I always liked how when they went looking for the treasure, it was already gone."

"Ah yes when the pirates where hoisted by their own petard. That is a lovely scene," Ducky said with gusto.

Tim and Gibbs chuckled at his enthusiasm. Then Ducky started telling his own favorite scene in vivid and exacting detail, before he ventured into a humorous anecdote about the author Robert Louis Stevenson.

He was just wrapping up his story when Jackson walked into the room carrying a tray with mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of cookies

"Did I hear you discussing _Treasure Island_?" Jackson asked as he handed them each a cup and a cookie. "I still remember you and Johnny Milligan from down the road going on treasure hunts with a shovel in one hand and a backpack full of sandwiches in the other. We wouldn't see you until near dusk, when you would return tired and covered in dirt from head to toe. The only thing you ever found was rocks, old tin cans, and on one unfortunate occasion, a riled skunk."

"Hey the skunk was not my fault, Johnny was always too curious for his own good. He was the one that got us sprayed," Gibbs interjected, his eyes sparkling with humor.

Jackson sat down next to him with a chuckle. "That's not the way John tells it."

"Of course he wouldn't, he was the one poking the bush with a stick," Gibbs said with a dismayed look on his face. "I swear, every time you tell that story I can smell that skunk."

With a twinkle in his eyes Jackson went on, and told the infamous skunk story in vivid detail.

As the laughter died down, Tim shifted up onto his knees to find a comfortable position that wouldn't hurt his ribs. The longer he sat on the floor, the more his chest was beginning to ache. Grimacing as his torso made its displeasure known, Tim quickly smoothed over his reaction so not to draw attention to himself. He thought he had succeed until he looked up and meet Gibb's gaze, and knew he wasn't fooling the man. When Gibbs glanced at the couch behind him Tim wanted to refuse just out of sheer stubbornness, but he also knew he was only shooting himself in the foot if he did because he was hurting. So he cautiously picked himself off the floor; and sat next to Ducky.

As the silence lasted, Tim opened his book again and started to read just when Jackson spoke.

"So Tim what grade are you in?"

The question made his heart start to pound in his chest, and he desperately tried to think of an answer that would satisfy. He should be in sixth grade, but in reality Tim hadn't been to school in three years. They had moved around too much to allow any formal education. Even before that, his schooling had been spotty at best. He briefly thought of lying, but then remembered that if Gibbs was his father, the truth would eventually come out.

"Uhm I … think the sixth grade?" Tim felt his face heat up as shame rolled through him. He kept his eyes downcast not wanting to see disapproval in their eyes, or even worse pity.

Gibbs cleared his throat in the uncomfortable silence that followed and asked, "So what part of the book are you reading now?"

Tim had been steeling himself for the next question, but when he heard it, he felt his tense muscles relax minutely. Daring to glance up he briefly met Gibbs' eyes before looking back down to his book, "Wart has just run into the courtyard trying to find a sword for Kay to use."

"Arthur is about to meet his destiny," Ducky supplied.

"That sounds exciting," Gibbs said smiling down at him.

Gibbs sounded genuinely interested so Tim gathered up his courage and said, "I could read you that part if you like."

Gibb nodded, "Actually, that sounds like a great idea. With the power out, it would be a great way to pass the time."

Tim cleared his throat and then began. "There was a quiet churchyard at the end of it, with a kind of square in front of the church door. In the middle of the square there was a heavy stone with an anvil on it, and a fine new sword was stuck through …"

 **~NCIS~**

Tim sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The bed had been comfortable, much more than the dairy barn he woke up in yesterday morning. The sun was streaming through the window, illuminating the room in bright white light. Walking over to the window, Tim was greeted with dazzling sight. The sun's bright light bouncing off the deep snow almost blinded him. Tim shuffled over to the bathroom. His ribs still felt stiff, but he was feeling a ton better than he had yesterday.

He had read from his book for a while the night before only stopping when his voice started to get rough, and he had to yawn. That was when Gibbs had suggested that it was late, and that they should probably all turn in. Jackson had shown Tim to a guest room. It was on the smallish size with a twin bed, but it had its own bathroom. Tim had been even more relieved to see that the door had a lock on it. He had waited until he heard Jackson walk back down the hall and then had clicked the lock to make sure it was secure before he climbed into bed. They all seemed like decent people, but Tim had learned that even seemingly nice people could still hurt you.

Checking his clothes he had left to dry on the towel bar last night after he had washed them in the tub, Tim was grateful that, although very cold, they were mostly dry. He didn't have pajamas, and so he had slept in his clothes. He knew the others would eventually cotton onto the fact that he only had two changes of clothes, but he wanted to put that off for at least a few days. Plus, he wasn't even sure he was related to any of these people, so he didn't want any charity.

Changing quickly as the cold air caused him to shiver and raised goose bumps on his skin, Tim threw his hoodie back on, walked out the door, and headed towards the kitchen. He could hear the others moving and talking as he got closer. He paused just before the doorway, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to get his nerves under control. He needed to calm down. The thing was they could end up being his family, so every interaction seemed more important than it probably was. Breathing in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth, Tim gathered up his courage and walked through the doorway.

Ducky and Jackson were having a quiet conversation near the stove. Gibbs was eating his breakfast at the table. As soon as Tim walked in, all three looked up and wished him a good morning, which Tim returned with a weak hello.

Jackson said, "Have a seat, son. The power is still out but we have a gas stove, so I could fix you some eggs for breakfast if you want? We have biscuits that I made yesterday. There is also cereal?"

Tim said, "Cereal sounds good, Sir, but I can fix it," and started to move towards the refrigerator but was waved off by the elderly man, so he reluctantly sat down across from Gibbs. He made brief eye-contact with him, and returned his good morning with one of his own. Tim grabbed a couple of biscuits from the plate in the middle of the table and buttered one before eating it. He was famished. Tim had to swallow quickly in order to thank Jackson when a rather large bowl of corn flakes was put in front of him. He usually didn't eat much breakfast, but he wasn't about to complain.

"I'm going to go chop some firewood for tonight," Gibbs announced to the room at large, placing his plate in the sink before heading towards the backyard and grabbing his coat along the way.

With Jackson and Ducky keeping up a running debate about which spices to put into a traditional beef stew, Tim hurriedly finished his breakfast. He placed his bowl in the sink and turned towards the other men hovering over the gas stove as they stirred a stew pot.

"Do you think Gibbs might need some help with the firewood?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He was still going with his plan to be as useful as possible in order to be the least amount of trouble, and maybe they would help him even if he wasn't part of their family.

The two men stopped their good natured squabbling and turned towards him. "I believe he could use some help. If you are feeling up to it?" Jackson said, glancing at Ducky for confirmation.

Ducky nodded and said, "Yes, as long as you don't push it too hard and remember that you are still recovering. If your ribs begin to hurt too much, you must promise to stop and rest for a bit."

Nodding quickly, Tim pulled his hood up. He headed towards the back door, but was stopped by Jackson.

"Tim, hold up. I have a jacket you can use," Jackson said as he went to the hall closet where he pulled out a jacket that was army green in color and lined with a surprisingly vivid yellow fleece and handed it to Tim.

Tim put it on over his hoodie and was surprised by how well it fit.

"It was my son's when he was your age. It isn't much to look at but it will keep you warm."

Thanking Jackson, Tim made his way outside, zipping up the jacket as he went. Gibbs had his back to him as he chopped firewood. The man already had an impressive pile of split logs next to him. Tim watched as Gibbs placed another piece of wood on the stump and raised the axe before bringing it down in one smooth arch and perfectly chopping the log in half.

With his hands shoved in his pockets, Tim had to admit Jackson was right. Although the jacket was ugly, it was very warm. Walking in a wide circle to avoid getting in Gibbs' way, Tim was soon facing the man, unsure of where to begin. When Gibbs stopped and gave him a smile, Tim said uncertainly, "How can I help?"

"Do you feel up to it?"

"Yes I am doing much better today," Tim answered. The truth was he still ached and was tired from his long day yesterday, but the bright sunny day made everything seem better.

"Okay, I am pretty much all done, but you can help carry in the wood," Gibbs said as he set the axe down and grabbed the majority of the pile of firewood. He left enough for Tim, but not enough to aggravate his injuries.

After placing the firewood in the bin next to the fireplace, Tim straightened up making sure not to wince as his ribs complained about the activity. He needed to be useful. As Gibbs restocked the fire, Tim looked over the pictures above the mantle. There was one of a much younger Jackson in a suit, his arm slung over the shoulder of a pretty woman in a wedding dress whom Tim assumed was his wife. Further on down was a picture of an older Jackson with a young Gibbs in military uniform. The picture in the middle of the mantle, the place of honor, was of Gibbs. Older than in his military picture, but a lot younger than he was now, he was standing next to a beautiful red-headed woman and a young girl. Tim's thoughts ground to a halt. He had never considered the possibility that Gibbs could be married, or that he may have more children other than himself. His thoughts backpedaled at that last thought; Tim didn't know for sure if he was Gibbs' son or not he needed to keep that in mind.

As Gibbs stood up, Tim cleared his throat and asked, "Is that your family?"

Gibbs picked up the black-framed photo and said, "Yes." He gently ran his finger over the picture, "This was my wife Shannon." Taking in a deep breath he continued, "And this was my daughter Kelly. They died about twenty years ago."

Tim wanted to ask what happened, but he didn't want to pry, and even though they died a while ago the grief in Gibbs' face seemed fresh, so instead he asked; "What were they like?"

Gibbs sat down on the couch and when Tim joined him he said, "The first time I met Shannon was the day I was to ship off. I was nervous although I tried to hide it. I think she sensed that, and she kept the conversation going until my train came in. She was always so generous with her time and her kindness."

Tim watched Gibbs' face as he spoke of his deceased wife. He could tell that he really loved her, even after all these years. But when he spoke of the day his daughter was born, his face just lit up, and in that moment, Tim could almost see a different life for himself, one where his mother made contact with Gibbs when she found out she was pregnant. Tim shook his head and chased that daydream away, and focused on what Gibbs was saying.

"Kelly had a way about her. She had me wrapped around her finger." Gibbs smiled sadly before standing up and placing the photo back on the mantle, and keeping his back to Tim he finished the story with a slightly hoarse voice. "They were killed while I was deployed."

When he turned back around, Gibbs was composed again.

"I'm sorry," Tim said. It felt too little, but at the same time, it was true.

Gibbs just nodded. Tim opened his mouth and then closed it again.

He had a feeling that Gibbs didn't talk about his family a whole lot, and it made him want to share something as well so gathering up his courage he blurted out, "I haven't been to school in awhile."

"How long is awhile?" Gibbs asked his voice neutral and understanding.

Tim swallowed and watched his hands as he felt a blush creep up his neck. "It's been at least two years, and before that, I wasn't going very consistently. We moved around a lot." Truth be told, the fourth grade was the last year Tim remembers going to school, and after that, whenever Tim would ask about school, his mother would say, "Not today baby, maybe next week," After a year, Tim had given up asking.

Glancing up, he saw Gibbs' eyebrows rise a bit, and Tim rushed on, feeling the need to defend his mother. "My mom had a run of bad luck, and so we had to keep on the move, but she did the best she could." His voice was trembling by the end of his sentence as if he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, Gibbs or himself.

Gibbs simply nodded and said, "Okay."

Tim had opened his mouth again to defend his mother, but closed it in surprise at Gibbs' acquiescence. He deflated a bit at that he expected Gibbs to run his mother down; everybody did, including Liam, who supposedly loved her.

In truth, Tim was starting to freak out. The reality of all he had missed these last couple of years was starting to weigh on him. Tim knew he was way behind in school. He did pretty well in reading and writing, but he only had the basics in math, and in science he only knew what he had read in the few books he had gotten his hands on. Tim also knew he had a long road ahead of him, and that thought had anxiety running through him.

Releasing a breath that was a bit shaky, Tim looked up, wondering if Gibbs would help. He should know better. Every adult whom he had ever trusted had let him down, but a small part of him couldn't help wanting this man to be different.

Gibbs walked towards him and sat down. "About school, we will look into it. You are not alone in this Tim. I will help you."

"Even if I am not your son?" Tim asked in a whisper dropping his eyes.

Softly, Gibbs said, "Hey," and waited until Tim met his eyes again, "Even if you are not my son. I will be here to help you."

Tim wanted to believe, he ached to believe but in the end, he couldn't. So instead, he grabbed his backpack, and he mumbled, "I am a little tired, so I am going to go lay down for awhile," and then he escaped to his room.

 **~NCIS~**

Gibbs sat back. He was not exactly frustrated, but he was discouraged. He understood Tim's lack of trust; the boy didn't know him from Adam, and it would take some time. But what he said to Tim had been the truth. He was in this for the long haul.

Ducky and Jackson walked into the room talking adamantly with each other, "Well, I still think a pinch of tarragon would have worked wonders. It adds a bit of flare to the stew. There really is nothing like it."

"No, caraway seed is what really makes a stew sing. Tarragon just doesn't have the same punch to it," Jackson insisted.

Ducky asked, "Where's young Timothy?"

"He was tired, so he went to lie down," Gibbs said with a sigh.

"Oh, I hope he is alright. Maybe I should go check on him?" Ducky asked, concern coloring his voice.

"No, I think the situation has been a bit overwhelming for him," Gibbs said, not wanting Ducky to disturb him if he truly was resting.

Ducky nodded, "The lad has been through quite a lot the last couple of days."

"The power will probably be back either tonight or tomorrow," Jackson said as he sat down on the couch next to Gibbs. "They are probably working on the roads now. What is your plan?" Jackson asked turning towards Gibbs.

"Well, depending on the roads, I think we will head back tomorrow. I would like to get Tim settled at home and get a DNA test," Gibbs said, turning towards his dad to reassure him. "I told Tim, and I wanted you to know that no matter what the test reveals, I want to take responsibility for him."

Jackson closed his eyes briefly, before placing his hand on Jethro's arm. "I am so glad to hear that. Thank you, son, and when you go back, I am going with you, if that's alright? If it is, I could stay for a while."

"What?" Surprised, Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

"You are going to need help. I know you have some time off, but what if you get called out? Who is going to be with Tim? He is too young to be home alone."

He honestly hadn't thought that far ahead. He did have some saved time he could ask for, but if something urgent came up, he very well could be called in, whether he liked it or not. The job he worked was unpredictable. He would have to start thinking about more than just about NCIS and himself; he had a son to think about. This time, he didn't try to suppress the thought instead he allowed that thought but allowed it to bloom into fruition, and it settled something in his chest. But he didn't want to impose on his father.

"What about the store?"

Jackson sighed, "I have had someone coming in and helping me with the store for some time. It was with the understanding that he would come and learn the business and take up the hours I no longer wanted to work. We agreed that when the time came, he would buy me out. This arrangement has worked out well, and now I think the time has come for me to step down."

"Who?" Gibbs asked incredulously. He had never thought to see the day his father would willingly give up working at the store.

"Actually, he's related to your fellow treasure hunter John Mulligan. His son Robert has had asthma most of his life, and he has never been able to consistently work the mines. He is a hard worker and has learned enough that I have no qualms about leaving the store in his hands," Jackson said earnestly sitting forward, his face animated as he explained his plans.

Gibbs was surprised but very thankful. "If you're sure dad. That would actually be very helpful." Having his dad there would help not only him, but he had a feeling that Tim would be more comfortable with him there as well.

Jackson smiled and said, "I will go make a couple of phone calls and set everything up and start packing."

As his dad left the room, Gibbs ran a hand over his face and said, "Ducky it has been so long since I have been solely responsible for child. I am going to mess up."

"Oh undoubtedly, Jethro, but you already care for the boy and want what's best for him, and that's a great place to start. Because you will put him first, and from what I have been able to ascertain from his past, he has not had a lot of people put his welfare first." Sitting down next to Gibbs, Ducky placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "I know you. You will be a wonderful father. Yes, you will have missteps, but you will recover and do better next time. I believe in you. And you are not alone in this, I will be here for you. As will the rest of the team. "

Looking into the kindly blue eyes of his oldest friend, Gibbs felt some of his confidence return. Nodding he patted the hand on his shoulder as a way of saying thanks and then went to go pack up what little he had brought with him. He also had a few phone calls to make.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Thank you to everybody for reading and reviewing. They always bring a smile to my face. Here's the new chapter. More to come soon!

* * *

 **~NCIS~**

Tim woke up to a knock on the door. Sleep causing his voice to crack. "Okay . . . I'm up."

Looking around blankly at the sunny, nicely decorated room, Tim tried to get his addled brain to work, and then it all came flooding back. His mom had taken off with Liam. He was in Stillwater at Jackson's house, and he was going to D.C. today to live with the man who could be his father. Remembering what Gibbs had told him yesterday about helping him whether he was his son or not made Tim pause briefly in getting dressed. Before shaking his head, and telling himself not to get his hopes up. After their talk, Tim had hid out in his room where he'd tried to write in his story journal until lunch, then had joined Ducky, Jackson, and Gibbs for a couple of rounds of cards. Over dinner, he learned of the plan for their return to Gibbs' home in D.C. Tim had been relieved to learn that Jackson was to come to live with them. Gibbs seemed alright, but he really didn't know him that well, and having someone else there would be good.

After dinner, the adults had talked for a while, Tim had read until Gibbs had asked if they could hear more about Arthur. Tim had been surprised but secretly pleased that he had been interested in hearing more of the story. It was a new feeling to have someone interested in what he liked. So he had read aloud for a bit and then they had discussed Arthur's plight now that he was king. The power had come back on around ten, just as Tim had been getting into bed.

After pulling on his sweatshirt, Tim grabbed his backpack and joined the others for breakfast. After a hearty meal, they were on the road, Gibbs driving his car with Tim riding shot-gun, and Jackson driving his truck with Ducky keeping him company.

Gibbs tried several times to talk to Tim, but the conversation always seemed to quickly die out. Tim knew he wasn't holding up his end of the conversation, but he wasn't feeling very talkative, the fear and the anxiety that he had managed to keep at bay last evening was back. As much as he had learned about the man over the last forty-eight hours, Gibbs was still a virtual stranger. After a few hours of almost complete silence, they arrived at Gibbs' home. Tim opened up the car door and looked around, a bit surprised to see that Gibbs lived in the suburbs. He had expected the man to maybe live in a bachelor pad near his work. But the house he was looking at was a two-story house nicer than anything he had ever stayed in with his mother.

Gibbs ushered him inside then gave him a quick tour of the house. Starting on the ground floor and pointing out the door that lead to the basement, Gibbs told him about the woodworking that he did some evenings. Finally, Tim was lead up the stairs, where Gibbs pointed out the bathroom and his own room that was just down the hall from the room where Tim would reside. Jackson would be staying in the guest room downstairs so he wouldn't have to navigate the stairs every day. Opening the door, Tim was happy to see the room was spacious with a twin bed against one wall and a row of windows with a window seat on the other. Tim placed his backpack next to the dresser as Gibbs opened the curtains to let in the mid-day sunlight. The windows looked out into the street, and Tim could see Ducky and Jackson pulling up in the truck.

"I'll let you get settled and unpack," Gibbs said as he leaned against the door jamb, "I called a colleague of mine who is coming over to help up with the DNA test. She'll be here after two. Come on down when you are done, and I'll make lunch."

Once Gibbs had left, Tim closed the door and then dug into his pack and withdrew his journal. He didn't feel the need to unpack because he really didn't have much, and for all of Gibbs reassurances, he wasn't counting on the fact he would be staying long. He and his mom moved so much and at times had to leave so abruptly that he had learned the hard way to always keep his backpack packed or lose what little he owned. Sitting down on the window seat, he took in the street below, and Tim just tried to wrap his mind around the fact that this was his life now.

Opening his journal, Tim flipped to the back for the first time since he had been left in that hotel room: to the white envelope that was taped to the back cover. Opening up the envelope and pulling out the long strip of photos, Tim took in a deep breath as he stared down at faded images. They had gone on a rare trip to a mall in a small town in Texas when he had been eight; his mother had been in an unusually happy mood. She had recently broken up with her latest "soulmate" and was riding the high of feeling like an independent and free woman. They had eaten at the food court, and his mom had reassured him this time would be different, this time it would just be the two of them from here on out, and she was swearing off men altogether. He had been young and naïve enough to believe her. They had run across the photo booth as they had been about to leave. His mom had dragged him into the booth, and they had taken a series of pictures. Four of the five pictures were of them making silly faces, but the fifth one was of them smiling at the camera. Tim loved that picture. His mother had looked so happy and healthy in a way he rarely saw her in the years that would follow.

Staring at the photo he couldn't help but wonder if his mom was okay. Was Liam treating her right? Had she been eating? There had been times when she had been so high for so long that she would forget to eat. Who would make sure she was taking care of herself if Tim wasn't there? It was his job to help her. Then, a traitorous thought twisted through his brain: if she needed him so much, why had she chosen to go with Liam rather than leave him and take Tim to safety herself? Instead, she had foisted him off on a man whom she hadn't seen in thirteen years.

He didn't notice the tears streaming down his face until one hit the photo. Tim wiped it away quickly and put the photo back before rubbing his face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. He had always hated to cry; his mother would always say, "Tears are a waste of time, Timothy, they do you no good, and afterwards, you are in the exact same position you were in before you started crying." Tim went to the bathroom to splash cool water on his face until he no longer looked like he had been crying, then went downstairs for lunch.

 **~NCIS~**

"What is NCIS?" Tim asked.

They had just finished a simple lunch of sandwiches and fruit with Gibbs and Jackson drinking coffee. Dr. Mallard had offered to fix Tim some tea, and he had said yes because the last couple of days he had realized he quite enjoyed hot tea. Sipping the hot liquid carefully and listening to the quiet conversation around him, Tim grew curious about exactly what type of work it was Ducky and Gibbs did for a living.

At the softly voiced questions, Gibbs looked up and said, "Naval Criminal Investigative Services." At Tim's questioning look, he continued, "I am a federal agent. I conduct criminal investigations involving the Navy and the Marines."

"So like a cop?" Tim asked a bit nervously. His Mom and Liam had had several run-ins with the cops, sometimes for drugs or prostitution. They had always managed to skip town before they were due at court; at this point they probably had several warrants out for their arrest.

"Yes, although Jethro's actual title is Supervisory Special Agent. He is the head of his own team of agents," Ducky said as he gathered their plates. He shook his head at both Gibbs and Tim's offer of help.

Tim's eyes widened in astonishment at Gibbs's title. It sounded very important, "Are you an agent, Dr. Mallard?"

Returning from placing the plates in the sink, Ducky replied with a chuckle as he sat back down. "Goodness me no, I am Chief Medical Examiner. Also please call me Ducky, everyone does."

Tim nodded, and thanks to television, he knew what a medical examiner was but had only a vague idea about what Gibbs did. He was going to ask what exactly such a title meant when the sound of the front door opening stopped him.

"Ah, that must be Abigail," Ducky's tone was upbeat and chipper so Tim figured the new guest must be okay but she was fairly loud; as Tim heard her talking a mile a minute before she rounded the corner.

"Gibbs, I brought the DNA test you wanted, but why are we meeting at your house? Is it another case? If it is a case, why couldn't it have waited until tomorrow? Unless it's another secret case?"

The woman who walked around the corner was tall, although at a second glance Tim realized it could be because of the platforms shoes she was wearing. Her hair was black and pulled into two ponytails on either side of her head. She was wearing all black and had a plethora of tattoos. She looked kind of awesome, Tim decided.

Abigail stopped talking upon seeing everyone at the kitchen table. As both Jackson and Ducky stood up and greeted her she gave them both a hug and a kiss to the cheek. She smiled down at Tim, although her smile seemed to slip a bit as gaze lingered on his injuries

She turned towards Gibbs. "What's going on?"

Getting up he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze, "Abby Sciuto, this is Timothy McGee."

Tim stood up nervously, smoothed out his pants before holding out his hand. Gently shaking it, Abby said, "Nice to meet you Tim. If I can call you Tim?"

Tim nodded and managed to say, "Tim is fine. It's nice to meet you also Ms. Sciuto."

"Call me Abby," she said with a brilliant smile.

Gibbs said, "Tim, I am going to go talk to Abby for a moment."

"Sure," Tim said softly, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was pretty sure Gibbs was going to explain to Ms. Sciuto exactly why they needed her to run a DNA test. As they went downstairs to the basement, Tim sat back down he tried not to think about how that conversation would go.

"WHAT?"

Tim jerked slightly in his seat, as the loud shout seemed to echo off the walls.

As Tim sunk lower in his seat and closed his eyes, mortified, someone patted his hand gently. Opening his eyes he saw Jackson give him a kind and reassuring smile. Tim tried to give one back, but seeing Jackson's troubled expression deepen, he figured he didn't do that great of a job. He liked Jackson. The elderly man had been nothing; but kind and supportive even without knowing for sure if they were related. He was about to ask Jackson about his store to take his mind off the situation, because even only knowing the man for a couple of days he knew how much Jackson loved the store, but then he heard the basement door open.

 **~NCIS~**

Gibbs was glad the DNA test was painless, and that Abby was nice enough to explain everything to Tim so that he had lost some of the nervous apprehension from his face by the time she was done. He had asked if Abby wanted to stay for supper but had been turned down. She said she wanted to run the DNA right away and that they should know by the end of the work day tomorrow. Ducky had left a bit after that, but not before impressing on Gibbs that was to call him if they needed anything.

Gibbs, Jackson, and Tim used the rest of the afternoon to go shopping at the local mall for clothes for Tim. Gibbs had noticed the small backpack and how Tim had been rotating his clothes. Tim had been resistant at first, but Gibbs, with the help of Jackson, had persuaded him to allow them to buy a few changes of clothes. Nothing too expensive, to soothe Tim's pride but enough to get him through the week. Gibbs had tried to buy Tim a new coat as he was still wearing Gibbs' old jacket, which was still as hideous as he remembered it being when he had been a teenager. In fact, Gibbs still remembered the first thing he had done with the money he had earned in his after school job was to buy himself a new jacket that was more his taste.

Tim told him no thank you; he apparently liked it.

Afterwards, Gibbs fixed dinner a simple fare of steak and salad. The evening ended fairly early. First Jackson retired citing a long day, then Tim who had been nervously bouncing his knee while watching the very old television that Gibbs had in his living room, called it quits shortly afterward. Gibbs knew he wasn't going to get much sleep, so he headed downstairs and worked on his latest project, a bookcase.

 **~NCIS~**

Walking into an empty squad room with a cup of coffee in his hands it almost felt like any other Monday, but for Gibbs there was a sense of unreality to the whole situation. He had come into the office to fill out the necessary forms for at least a week of paid leave. He figured if Tim was his son he would need at least that long to get the ball rolling on gaining full custody, and if he wasn't his son, it could take even longer. Thankfully, as much as he didn't trust lawyers, he did know a few really good ones. It would take a few phone calls that he would rather make outside the house. Sitting at his desk, Gibbs let out a deep sigh and rubbed a hand over his face as he thought of all that was needed to be done over the next couple of days. Tim needed to be enrolled in school, he would need to see a doctor for a check-up, plus Gibbs wanted to do background checks on Catherine McGee and Liam Thomas. He wanted to learn more about them and their life with Tim, and he urgently needed to find them especially Liam. Gibbs wanted to make sure the man would never be able to hurt Tim again.

Vance would more than likely be in his office within a half an hour. Tony and Ziva should be arriving within the hour. Hopefully, the team could be taken off rotation for the week, and Tony and Ziva could work cold cases until Gibbs returned. Sipping his coffee, Gibbs begun to fill out the paperwork and waited for the day to start. He was anxious to get back home. It was an odd feeling to have people waiting on him to come home, but it was also a good feeling.

He had asked Tim and his father, what their plans were for the day when they had all sat down for breakfast that morning. He had been surprised when Tim had joined them as it was very early. He had assumed the kid would sleep longer, but he was getting the feeling that Tim was a light sleeper thanks to his unsettled upbringing. They hadn't really had any concrete plans, except Jackson who said he was going to take Tim for a walk around the neighborhood, so the boy would be more familiar with his new home. Gibbs hadn't seen his father this lively in a long time he knew Jackson had already decided that Tim was his grandson and was treating him accordingly.

Finishing his paperwork and handing it to Vance's secretary, Gibbs declined her offer to hand it to Vance himself. He wanted to know the results of the DNA test first before talking to Vance or the rest of the team. So when Ziva and Tony came to work one after the other, Gibbs ignored the subtle probes for information and asked for updates on the cases they had been working on before he left on Friday. They actually had a couple of new leads on a decade-old case, so Gibbs sent them to interview the few witnesses that were still around. Checking through his own files, Gibbs made a few notes as he waited for his cell phone to ring.

 **~NCIS~**

Ziva and Tony returned after lunch. In a gruff tone, Gibbs said, "Report." They launched into their various findings. When they were finished, they stared at him expectantly. He was suitably impressed with all of the new information that the witnesses had been able to provide after ten years and with the thoroughness and hard work that the duo had put into this case. "Good Job," Gibbs said. Seeing their pleased smiles, he made a mental note that he needed to voice his approval more often.

"Get started on finding out where the rest of the witnesses from the original case are now and ca-" Gibbs started to say before his cell phone interrupted. Seeing Abby's name flash across the screen Gibbs immediately turned and without finishing his sentence walked quickly to the elevator. Seeing his team's confused and concerned faces, Gibbs knew he would have to explain himself soon enough, but he wasn't worried about that now.

Answering his phone with a curt, "Abby," Gibbs waited for the doors to close and then pushed the stop button on the elevator; Gibbs took in a deep breath.

"Gibbs the results are back . . ."

When she hesitated Gibbs leaned against the elevator wall. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he ground out, "Just tell me."

"Tim's your son," Abby said gently.

"Thank you. Please print out the results. I'll pick them up before I leave," Gibbs breathed out shakily. Not waiting for an answer, he hung up. Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the elevator wall, he took in an unsteady breath _._ _Tim was his son_. He was a father again, he had a family again. Gibbs felt tears prick at his eyes as a swell of emotion twisted its way through him; it was a surge of joy that was almost painful. Pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes, all he could think over and over again was _thank you, thank you, thank you._

 **~NCIS~**

A knock on the door brought Leon's head up from where it had been buried in paperwork. He wasn't surprised to see Gibbs walk in without waiting for permission. It was just par for the course with the man. What had been a surprise was finding a family leave request in his in-box this morning. Gibbs hadn't taken a vacation, paid leave, sick day, or even a half day in a couple years, so Leon had been taken aback, to say the least. As Gibbs sat down Vance took in his appearance. He didn't seem ill, although on closer inspection, his eyes were glassy and he looked pale. As the silence lengthened, Gibbs seemed lost in thought, so Vance figured it was up to him to get the ball rolling.

"Is everything okay in Stillwater?" Vance took a vague guess, Jackson being the only family that Gibbs had.

Distractedly, the other man answered, "Yes, my dad's fine. Actually, Jackson's in D.C. with me. I…" Gibbs stopped, seemingly at a loss as to how to go on.

Vance's concern skyrocketed "Jethro what is it?"

Gibbs finally met his gaze. Vance was surprised to see the usually stone-faced man was in shock but there was also joy in his eyes. "I have a son."

Astonished, Vance blurted out, "What?"

Gibbs shook his head, and seemed to get himself together, "I found out this weekend I have a twelve-year old son. He showed up on my father's doorstep on Friday. That's why I took off early and why Jackson is now in town as well."

Vance honestly couldn't be more surprised. "His mother?"

Gibbs eyes hardened, and he practically spat out, "Cathy abandoned him in a neighboring town after her boyfriend smacked him around. All she left him was a letter explaining who I was and where my father lived. Tim managed to hitchhike to Stillwater and almost froze to death in the process."

From the look on Gibbs' face, Vance hoped for Cathy's sake that she didn't run into the man anytime soon. "But he's okay?"

A small smile graced the other man's face. "Tim's a tough kid. He's been through a lot. Not that he's told me much, but I've picked up enough from spending time with him. He's moved around a lot, and his education has suffered because of it. There's so much I don't know about his life, and he is so skittish when it comes to talking about it. I am afraid of pushing too hard." By the end of the speech, Gibbs had lost his smile and his face was a picture of agitation. Vance could probably count on one hand the times he had seen Gibbs unsure; he felt badly for the man. He loved his children dearly and couldn't imagine not having been there to watch them grow up.

Wanting to reassure him, Vance said, "I think it's wise not to push him too hard about his life with his mother. Let him come to you when he feels comfortable. On the other hand, from what you've told me finding his mother and her boyfriend and arresting them would be a good idea for Tim's safety." He hoped Gibbs would get his meaning without him having to say out loud that he would turn a blind eye to him using NCIS resources.

Seeing Gibbs sitting up a bit straighter and nod his head, Vance, continued, "I will of course approve your leave which can start right away. I will also take your team off of rotation this week unless something urgent comes our way that only you and your team can deal with."

Gibbs stood "Thank you."

As he turned away Vance was seized with the need to say one more thing. "Oh, and Gibbs, I don't usually like to speak for my wife, but I have a feeling this time Jackie will not mind. If you ever need someone to watch Tim for an afternoon or if something comes up unexpectedly . . ."

Gibbs seemed a bit taken aback, but then visibly relaxed and said, "Thanks Leon," as he walked out.

 **~NCIS~**

Tony was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open, but he honestly couldn't help it. Something had been up with his boss since he had just disappeared on Friday. So when Gibbs had called them into a conference room in order to talk to them privately, Tony knew his curiosity was going to be satisfied, but honestly this had never crossed his mind. His boss . . . Gibbs had a son about whom he apparently had not had any idea until seventy-two hours ago.

An exasperated, "DiNozzo you are going to start catching flies," from the man sitting across from Ziva and him, finally made Tony close his mouth with an audible snap. Glancing over at Ziva, he saw she was just as shocked and troubled as he was.

Gibbs quickly ran through his story. The more Tony heard, the more concerned he became. It sounded like Tim had a fairly hard life up until now, but Tony also knew his boss, and he knew Timothy McGee's life was about to take a turn for the better. He had a spark in his eyes that Tony had rarely seen before.

Catherine McGee and Liam Thomas. Tony wrote their names in his notebook. Even from the scanty details that Gibbs had been able to glean from Tim, they sounded like real pieces of work. Tony and Ziva needed to know more in order to protect Tim and Gibbs, "I'll do a complete background check on the both of them."

Ziva spoke for the first time. "And I will have one of the agents down in cyber set up a program so that if they pop up again in the system, we will be notified."

"All right. How long?" Gibbs asked as he stood, seemingly ready to leave right away.

Tony guessed that it would take at least forty-eight hours in order to do a thorough check on both, even with all the NCIS resources, mainly because they would have to do it on the sly, but there were a couple of favors he could call in that would help with that. "Do you want me to bring it by Wednesday evening?" If they were keeping this low-key, then it would be best discussed outside of the office.

Gibbs looked thoughtful for a moment before saying decisively, "That sounds good. Why don't both of you come over for dinner and we can talk after Tim goes to bed for the evening?"

Ziva said, "I could bring a salad?"

Gibbs nodded and turned to go before stopping and turning back. He had a thoughtful look on his face, and asked, "DiNozzo, in that enormous movie collection you are always bragging about, do you have anything about King Arthur or Treasure Island?"

Surprised but more than happy to help, Tony responded very enthusiastically, "Actually I have quite a few. Why?"

"They are some of Tim's favorite stories, and I thought it would be something he would like," Gibbs said, his voice almost tender.

Tony's smile widened at seeing this new side of Gibbs. Then he frowned a bit as he thought of a small problem. "Boss, do you own a DVD player or even a television that has hook-ups for one?"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to frown. He didn't and he didn't see himself having time over the next few days to purchase them, either.

Ziva cleared her throat before saying, "I have an extra television that is fairly modern just gathering dust in my spare room. If you want it?"

Tony added, "I could pick up a DVD player on my way over. You will probably be too busy."

Gibbs was touched by their helpfulness, "Okay, that sounds good, but I will pay you both back." He waited until they nodded their acquiescence. "I will see you on Wednesday."

When Gibbs had left, Tony and Ziva turned to each other and as their eyes met, they had a silent conversation. They were on the same page. They would do everything in their power to help Gibbs, Jackson, and Tim stay safe. Ziva tilted the notebook with Tony's notes on it. "Liam Thomas and Catherine McGee you are now being hunted."

 **~NCIS~**

Gibbs pulled up to his home later than he had anticipated. He had gone down to the lab, and where Abby had given him all of the documents he would need to prove he was Tim's father. Then he had set up a meeting with a lawyer recommended to him by Leon. By the time he had hit the road, it had been late afternoon, and there had been an accident on the interstate and by the time he had gotten home, the sun was already setting.

Turning the car off, he just sat there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed to start their new life on the right foot. He wanted to be a good father to Tim from the get-go. He had already missed out on twelve years of his son's life. Gibbs felt a flourish of guilt threaten to overtake him at that thought, but he pushed it back. There was nothing he could do about that now. He needed to focus on the present, on helping Tim in the here and now. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out, he got out of the car and went into the house.

When he opened the front door, his father was sitting on the couch in the living room, the TV was on in the background, but Tim was nowhere in sight. Jackson slowly rose to his feet, a worried, anxious look plastered on his face.

"Tim?" Gibbs asked, concerned when he didn't see him.

"We were watching television, and waiting for dinner to be done cooking when we heard you pull up, and Tim took off to his room like he was being chased," Jackson said. With a cautiously hopeful look on his face, he asked "Is he . . ."

"He's my son," Gibbs said, a riot of emotion running through those three words.

Jackson sat back down abruptly and ran a shaking hand over his head. Gibbs walked over and placed a comforting hand on his father's shoulder. He was a bit surprised when Jackson abruptly stood and pulled him into a fierce hug, which he returned.

A few moments later, Gibbs let go and, with a gruff pat on his father's back, murmured, "I need to talk to Tim." Jackson mumbled something about checking on dinner and shuffled off to the kitchen. Gibbs took the steps two at a time. He knocked on Tim's door and opened it when he heard a faint, "Come in." The overhead light was on, and the curtains were drawn except for a small strip where Tim sat in the window seat. The book on his lap was seemingly forgotten as he looked out the window. Tim almost looked at ease, but Gibbs could see where his hands were clasped so tightly in his lap that the tips were turning white. Sitting down on the window seat as well, Gibbs waited until Tim turned towards him and met his gaze.

The look in his eyes tore at something in Gibb's chest. He was so scared. "Tim, you are my son," he said.

 **~NCIS~**

As the words reverberated through his mind, Tim gasped for air. He couldn't breathe; it felt like all the oxygen was squeezed out of his lungs. When he had heard Gibbs' car pull up, he panicked. All the sudden, he didn't want to know the answer to whether Gibbs was his father or not. The future scared him. The life he had had with his mother hadn't been great, and at times downright awful, but it was the life he had known. Now, it would all change.

It wasn't until he heard an insistent, "Tim it's okay," and felt a hand on his shoulder that he realized he was kneeling on the floor, wheezing.

"Take a deep breath," Gibbs said, and Tim tried.

Leaning against the steadying hand on his shoulder, Tim breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth a couple times. Looking up, he saw a pair of very concerned blue eyes staring back at him. Tim unsteadily tried to get to his feet, and Gibbs grasped his arm and helped him up. Tim took a step back and withdrew, not wanting to be touched. He looked up, briefly worried, but Gibbs didn't seem offended and even took a step back as he asked, "Are you okay?"

Tim nodded before he breathed out shakily, "Yeah, it just hit me all of a sudden."

Seeing Gibbs' questioning look, Tim continued, "It's just that everything will be different, and I don't know what to do or how to feel about that."

"We will just take it one day at a time. Tomorrow morning, I have an appointment with a lawyer to file for custody, and we have an appointment with the school district to enroll you in school tomorrow afternoon." Seeing Tim's eyes widen, he quickly continued, "Like I said before, I will be here for you. Your grandfather will be as well." Gibbs kept his voice and his words even and soft.

Grandfather. Tim hadn't even considered the fact that Jackson was his grandfather. As if the thought brought reality, Tim heard a faint, "Dinner's ready," from downstairs.

"Okay?" Gibbs asked as he ushered Tim out of the room, and they both started down the stairs.

"Yeah okay," Tim said trying to make his voice as strong as possible, although it still quivered a bit. If he could get through the next few days, he would be alright.

Pausing in the hallway as a thought came to him, Tim turned to Gibbs. His nerves were almost getting the better of him so that he nearly changed his mind and didn't ask, but looking up and seeing nothing but kindness and understanding in Gibbs' eyes, he went ahead, his voice a bit shaky, "What should I call you?"

"I am fine with whatever you are comfortable with," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded thankfully; he needed time to process the fact that the man next to him was his father before he called him anything other than Gibbs.

 **~NCIS~**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Well this is it for now! I am currently working on the sequel as real life permits. Thank you to everybody who favorited this story and left reviews!

* * *

 **~NCIS~**

 _Wednesday Evening_

Tony glanced on his dashboard clock and silently cursed, as he was going to be late. The last of the information on Liam Thomas had come in just as he was leaving, so he'd waited for a printout and had added it to the pile. Gibbs was not going to be happy with what they had found. He had been correct: Tim had had a hard life. Tony felt bad for the kid. His own childhood hadn't been a cakewalk, but he had at least been financially privileged. Up until this point, Tim hadn't had anything other than a single mother who was addicted to drugs and a hard lifestyle.

Pulling up to the house, Tony quickly shut off the engine and grabbed the DVD player and the bag of DVDs he had brought. He bound up the steps, knocked on the door, and let himself in. Gibbs and Ziva were in the living room setting up the television and waving him over. He heard Jackson and Ducky in the kitchen talking to someone. Tony wondered if it was Tim as he unboxed the DVD player and helped Gibbs connect it to the television.

"Did you bring the file?" Gibbs asked from behind the television as he connected the coax cable.

"Yeah boss, I left it in the car 'til later," Tony replied as he programmed the remote so they could easily operate both devices.

"Good," came the muffled reply as Gibbs crawled backwards from behind the TV. Tony smirked, not used to seeing his boss in such an undignified position. Gibbs caught his eye and gave him a raised eyebrow which caused the back of Tony's head to start hurting like he had received a phantom head slap. Clearing his throat, he looked away and got back to work with the remote.

He heard a shuffling sound behind him. Turning, Tony saw a kid almost five foot in height with shorn blond hair, who was hesitating on the threshold and looking like he was about to make a break for it. His hands were clenched tightly together, and he briefly met Tony's eyes before his gaze skittered away.

Gibbs walked over to Tim and smiled at him encouragingly. "Tim this is my senior field agent Tony DiNozzo. DiNozzo this is Tim, my son."

Tony couldn't help but notice how Gibbs' voice got just a bit softer on the last few words. He was once again struck by this other side of his boss. It made him seem more accessible. Tony shook Tim's hand and said, "Nice to meet you."

Tim's handshake was surprisingly firm although he still didn't quite make eye contact.

"Hey, I could use some help setting the table in here," Jackson shouted from the kitchen.

"I should go," Tim murmured.

"I'll help you," Tony said. He wanted to get to know Tim better. Maybe the kid would be more comfortable around him. A faint "Thanks," was Tim's reply as they grabbed the plates and silverware from the counter.

They had barbecued chicken that Gibbs had cooked, garlic mashed potatoes, Ziva brought a tomato and cucumber salad, and Ducky had baked the most delicious sticky toffee pudding to round out the meal. The conversation was lively around the table, although Tony noticed that Tim didn't participate much, but he was paying very close attention to whoever was talking.

After dinner, Tim gathered up the dishes and looked like he was going to try to wash them before Jackson practically chased him out of the kitchen, telling him to have a seat and relax. Tony smiled at that; it was nice to see Jackson so genuinely happy. Ziva declared that she would help and raised one eyebrow almost in defiance at Jackson as if daring him to argue. The older man raised his hands in surrender, and they got to work.

Gibbs was still chuckling when he and Tony walked into the living room. "So DiNozzo, what did you bring?"

Tim, who had been sitting on the couch with a book in his hands, looked up intrigued. Tony never one to turn away a chance at having an audience, started taking the movies out of the bag with flourish. "Well I have a variety of movies for your enjoyment. I hear, Tim, you like King Arthur and Treasure Island?"

Tim looked a little embarrassed but nodded in agreement.

"First off, we have a Disney classic: _The Sword in the Stone_. Also Disney but less of a classic: _A Kid in King Arthur's Court_." Tony sat next to Tim and started handing him the movies as he read them off. "Or if you are more in a pirate mood, I have two versions _Treasure Island,_ the 1950 version with a young Bobby Driscoll as Jim and Robert Newton as Long John Silver. Or and this is my personal favorite-" Tony smiled as he handed over the DVD and seeing the cover, Tim grinned in return, "- _Muppet Treasure Island_. Kermit really gave his best performance in this one." When Tim laughed softly, Tony considered it a win.

Tim looked at the plethora of movies in his hands, and DiNozzo still had two more. "What are those?"

Amused Tony replied, "I am glad you asked. Now I took a risk that you might like these." He showed the covers to Tim. "These are based off of my favorite book when I was your age."

" _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ ," Tim read out loud.

"Have you ever read the book?" Tony asked.

"No, I have always wanted to read Jules Verne, but I moved around a lot, and I have never come across any books by him," Tim replied.

"We could watch one of them if you want?" Tony asked wanting to share with Tim one of his childhood favorites.

Tim seemed tempted, but eventually said, "No I want to read the book first before I watch the movie. It is better that way."

Tony nodded and said, "I totally agree with you. I also prefer to read the book before the movie, if I get the chance." Dipping his hand once more into the bag, Tony pulled out a hardcover book. "I took the chance, once I heard how much you like to read, that you may like to borrow one of Jules Verne's best books, at least in my humble opinion."

Tim eagerly placed the movies he had been holding on the table and reached for the offered book. It was obviously well used as the spine had lost most of its coloring. Flipping open the book Tim read the title page and was startled to see the book placard that declared that this book belonged to one Anthony DiNozzo. Tim started to say, "I couldn't…"

Tony held up his hand. "I trust you. Gibbs says you are very conscientious young man, so I know it will be in good hands."

At Tony's words, Tim glanced over at Gibbs who had been sitting silently opposite of the two of them during the whole conversation. So Tim said a bit gruffly, "Okay. Thank you."

"Sure no problem. So which movie will it be this evening?" Tony said.

"Um, how about, _The Sword in the Stone_? I haven't seen that before, but I have always wanted to," Tim finally decided.

"Perfect." Tony grabbed the movie and put it into the DVD player. Then he returned to the couch, and leaned back and relaxed. Tim sat beside him.

 **~NCIS~**

Ziva and Jackson soon joined them, and they all watched as Wart became King Arthur. Gibbs kept one eye on the movie, and another on Tim. They were missing Abby, Jimmy, and Vance and his family but Gibbs hadn't wanted to overwhelm Tim with too many people. So he had accepted Vance and Jackie's invitation to dinner at their house next week, which included Abby and Jimmy.

It had been a long couple of days. He had met with a lawyer who was almost positive he could eventually get full custody, considering the fact Tim's mom abandoned him. For now he had emergency temporary custody with an appointment in front of a judge in order to get the ball rolling to make it permanent. He had also signed Tim up at the local middle school, and because Tim missed so much school, he had spent most of the day being tested to see where his educational needs lay. It had been a very long day, and Tim had been dragging since Gibbs had picked him up at school. Gibbs would be surprised if he actually made it through the whole movie, so he was thankful the cartoon wasn't very long. Tomorrow would be another long day: Gibbs and Tim had an appointment with the Principal of Tim's school to go over the test results and explain the plan of action to get Tim caught up with his peers. He knew Tim was worrying over all the schooling he had missed, so the sooner they could get him settled, the better off he would be.

Tim leaned over and asked Tony a question about the movie, and Tony lit up and launched into a speech about how hand-drawn animation was underrated nowadays. Ziva and Jackson were talking quietly amongst themselves; Jackson had asked the agent her recipe for the dressing she used on the salad. Ducky, who was sitting next to him, was watching the movie intently, having not seen it since it had come out the first time. He would make an amusing comment every now and then that had Gibbs smiling, and then Gibbs would make a retort of his own that had the older man chuckling into his tea.

 **~NCIS~**

Tim actually made it through the movie but was barely awake at the end so Gibbs ushered him upstairs to bed. After brushing his teeth, Tim got into bed and turned on his bedside lamp. On his nightstand was his story journal and the book Agent DiNozzo was letting him borrow. His hand hovered briefly over it before he reached past it and grabbed his journal instead. He opened it and drew out the photographs of him and his mother again.

Tim had felt content and relaxed tonight, with his dad and grandfather. They tried so hard to put him at ease, not only with new clothes and a clean place to live, but they listened to him and seemed interested in what he had to say. Ducky also seemed like a good person. He had even offered to teach him how to play chess, which was something Tim had always wanted to learn. Then there was Agents DiNozzo and David, and although he had just met them, they seemed friendly. David had given them her television and DiNozzo had been more than generous with his movies and his books. Plus he was genuinely funny and had made Tim laugh several times with his commentary throughout the movie.

In this house and with these people, Tim had not just felt happy but also safe. It was the first time in a long time he had felt truly secure, and he knew Gibbs and his family had something to do with that. His instincts were telling him he could trust his father to protect him, and that he could be happy here. When he looked at his mother in this picture, though, those feelings felt disloyal and traitorous.

For so long, it had just been the two of them.

His mom would always say, "It's me and you Tim against the world, we don't need anyone else." He had always agreed with her, after all, he had no one else. He had realized when he was younger that his mom was afraid of being alone. "Everyone else goes away but you'll never leave me." Tim had agreed with her, and he had promised her. But now, his mom was gone and there was a stranger offering him a new family, a new life and there was a part of him that wanted that. _Surely his mom would want him to be happy?_ He felt so torn, and he missed her. Tim didn't want to cry anymore, but as the tears welled up, he didn't fight them; this time, he let them fall. Sobbing into his pillow to muffle the sound as the past week's events caught up to him, Tim curled up and just let the pain wash over him.

After the tears finally stopped falling, Tim got up and splashed water on his face. Then he climbed back into bed, and tried to calm back down. Picking up the photo from where it had fallen onto the floor, Tim propped it up on the nightstand next to his bed. Staring at the photo, Tim realized what he needed to do; he needed to talk to his mom to ask if maybe it was okay for him to have a family that she was not a part of.

Mulling over a plan on how to do that, Tim picked up his story journal because he knew with his brain whirling with ideas sleep would be a long time coming. So he opened his journal and started a new story. It was about a group of agents who fought crime and protected people, their leader an Agent Tibbs. He scribbled down their story until his eyes felt too heavy to continue. Placing his journal on his nightstand, Tim turned off his bedside lamp, rolled over and fell asleep.

 **~NCIS~**

After Tim went up to bed, Gibbs walked Ducky out, and the older man made him promise to give him a call if he needed anything. Jackson went up to bed only after being reassured that Gibbs would share with him any new information that he received. As soon as it was just the three of them, Tony went out to his car and retrieved the file. Once in the basement, Gibbs shut the door. Tim didn't need to hear this conversation.

They gathered around his worktable, and Tony set down two rather hefty files. Gibbs picked up the one labeled Catherine McGee. "Catherine McGee was born in . . ." Tony started to say but stopped when Gibbs shot him an impatient look. "Well, you know where she was born. I'll fast forward. There were a few minor juvenile offenses, shoplifting, vandalism, and one count of underage drinking. She must have been one smart cookie because she ended up getting a full ride scholarship to University of Boston, dropped out the summer before she met you. Year later she has Tim, seems to be doing alright for about three years, and then..." Tony hesitated an unhappy look on his face.

"And then?" Gibbs asked, a bit more impatiently then he intended.

Ziva took over, "She was arrested in a raid of a suspected meth house. Tim was with her. He was given over to CPS and spent a few months in foster care until Cathy pled out to a lesser charge and was given probation. Once she had gone through and graduated from drug treatment facility she was able to regain custody."

"The court must have ordered social services to check up on them," Gibbs ground out, feeling his blood pressure rise that at the age of three Tim had been in a meth house and had already been in the foster system.

Ziva unperturbed at her boss's tone, continued, "There was never any follow-up, and the next time she shows up in the system was a couple years later in California."

"California?" Gibbs asked incredulously, flipping back a few pages in order to follow along.

"Then Wyoming, Texas, Ohio, Pennsylvania. Cathy leads a very charmed existence when it comes to the legal system. Mostly, she has been detained or arrested for prostitution, and drug possession. She usually managed to make a deal by rolling over on her cohorts or get plea bargain for a lesser charge and time served." Tony tried to keep his voice flippant like he usually did when presenting the background on suspects, but the effort was weak as there was a current of worry running through it. "Surprisingly enough she is currently not wanted in any criminal database."

Having read along with Tony's breakdown, Gibbs shut the file. He would read it more thoroughly later. Picking up the other file that was much thicker and was labeled Liam Thomas, Gibbs took a deep breath and opened it.

Ziva started reading, her voice straightforward like it was another day at the office, but there was anxiety in her eyes. "Liam Thomas age thirty-two, born Dearborn, Michigan. His first arrest was as a juvenile, mostly petty robberies, boosted a few cars and such, served a few years in Juvenile Hall. Then the charges became more serious: pandering and pimping, drug running, possession, attempted murder. He served five years in Sing Sing for that one. He is also suspected in a couple of armed robberies and aggravated assault. Liam has a warrant out for him in Texas where he is a suspect in a homicide in Laredo."

Gibbs skimmed a few of the official reports. What stood out was the level of violence that Liam employed in each crime; it seemed excessive, almost like he enjoyed it. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as the last couple of days seemed to hit him all at once, "Make sure you put out an APB for Liam Thomas for assault of a minor. I want to be notified if he shows up on the radar at all."

"Already done boss," Tony answered.

After a moment's hesitation, Gibbs said firmly, "And one for Catherine McGee as well, for child endangerment."

Ziva and Tony looked at each other, but it was Ziva who spoke up. "Tim will not be happy if you have his mother arrested."

Gibbs did his best to temper his tone but his frustration at the no-win situation he was faced with still leaked through. "I know, but I need to keep Tim safe, and in order to do that, Catherine McGee needs to face up to what she has done." He knew Tim would not thank him for arresting the only parent he has ever known and loved, but she had abandoned him, and he could have been killed in his journey to get to Stillwater.

Ziva offered no further comments, instead, she turned over the rest of the files. Tony did the same, and soon they were both escorted up to the main floor.

Gibbs walked them both out to their cars and thanked them for their work.

"No problem, Boss," Tony said as he unlocked his car and caught Gibbs' eye before continuing, "If you, or Tim need anything you can call me any time." Ziva concurred.

Hearing the sincerity in his agent's voices, Gibbs smiled and thanked them. He watched until their cars turned the corner, and as he was locking up he couldn't help but think he was truly blessed.

Turning out the lights on the main floor, Gibbs detoured into the kitchen where he warmed up a cup of coffee before heading down the basement stairs. It was going to be a long night, and he wanted to read through the files and make some notes of his own. Gibbs pulled up a stool and sat down with a sigh; he took the file folder and emptied it. He organized the papers into piles before picking up his pencil and rereading the pages one at time making notes in one of his notebooks. Whether it was to research a point for clarification or just get the guys down in cyber to dig deeper, Gibbs was determined to know everything there was to know about Catherine McGee and Liam Thomas. Looking over the list of Cathy's arrests, Gibbs couldn't help but wonder where Tim had been during those hours and sometimes days that Cathy had spent in jail. He felt the anger that he had tramped down earlier rise up again, not only at Cathy, but also at himself. The more he learned, the clearer and grimmer the picture of Tim's childhood became. Cathy wasn't the only one to blame, he was as well.

Gibbs not only felt guilty, but he was also worried. He knew eventually, Cathy and Liam would pop up, and he needed to be ready when they did. He needed to minimize any contact they had with Tim. Glancing up at the clock, he realized he had been working for a while as it was now past 3:30 am. He had a big day tomorrow and would need to get some sleep, so he gathered up the paperwork and placed it back into the file that he carried with him upstairs. Checking the front and backdoors to make sure they were locked, he paused in the living room next to the lone lamp that was still lit. His thoughts went back to this evening, not just the dinner or the movie but also the talking that led to laughing, and just spending a regular Wednesday night hanging out together. Gibbs realized he felt content for the first time in a long time, and that was due to the people he had gathered here. This was his second chance to have a family, and he knew he would do what he had to in order to protect them. With that thought, Gibbs turned out the light and went upstairs to bed.

 **The End**


End file.
